by Julie Cannon
“Yeah. I am. We live in about a twenty-minute radius of each other. We get together when we can, birthdays and anniversaries and stuff like that. My brothers are all married and have a pack of kids between them. My mother loves to say that only the best moms get to be called Grandma, so her life is complete.”
“Any kids in your future?” Matt asked.
Kelly sensed something in her question but couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
“I haven’t thought too much about it. But I haven’t ruled it out. I do know I don’t want to do it alone. At least I don’t think I do. It’s got to be hard. Children take up every minute of your day when they’re little, and suddenly they go from being totally dependent on you to asking you to shuttle them around to football and soccer practice and sleepovers. My sister-in-law says that she’s nothing but an Uber driver.”
“Tell me about your books,” Kelly said, shifting the subject. “You said you’re working on something sci-fi?”
“Yes. I was planning to do some writing on this trip, but I seem to be too busy.”
Kelly heated at the fiery look in Matt’s eyes.
“I can leave you alone. No.” Kelly put her hands up before Matt could respond. “No. I can’t leave you alone, so you’re going to have to figure something out. You’re mine for the next two weeks. If you want, of course.”
Kelly watched Matt’s eyes travel across her face, hesitate at her lips, then return to her eyes. She flushed all over at the sensuous act.
“I do.”
Kelly’s throat tightened at the thought of Matt saying those same words in a very different setting. Holy shit. Where had that come from? She needed to be very careful, but in the back of her mind she knew it was already too late.
“We’ll have to go find a bookstore so I can pick up one of your books,” Kelly said, needing to change the subject.
“I don’t think there’s a Barnes and Noble here.”
“Then I’ll go on Amazon and order it.”
“I wouldn’t spend your money on it,” Matt replied.
“Why not? I thought all authors were always self-promoting. And besides. Now that I know you, I’m interested,” Kelly added, hoping her previous statement didn’t sound too harsh.
“Because they’re geared to appeal to the nine-to-thirteen age groups.”
“So, I’m a post-teen. I can still enjoy it. And speaking of enjoying it,” Kelly said. “I really enjoyed Tropical Nights.”
Kelly had googled Matt’s pen name and was more than a little surprised when over a dozen books written by Alice Monroe appeared. She bought Tropical Nights and instantly downloaded it to her iPad. Eight pages in, Kelly thanked the eBook gods. She would have been turned on before she’d met Matt, but as she turned each page and touched herself, she imagined Matt’s hands on her.
The expression on Matt’s face when she clearly read between the lines and realized just how fulfilling Kelly had found it was priceless. It was a combination of shock and embarrassment.
“Why so surprised? It was good. I particularly liked the scene on the boat when Robbie…”
Matt put up her hands in surrender. “No need to go into details. I know what Robbie did.”
“Have you ever done that?”
Matt blushed again. “Well,” she said, her embarrassment turning to something much more interesting. “Sometimes authors write what they know.”
Kelly was so aroused by the conversation she could probably come right here in the booth if the conversation continued.
“I bought all of them so, since your royalty check will be a bit larger next month, you can buy me another beer.
Matt laughed. “You’re crazy.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
After lunch, they pedaled around the small downtown area, parking their bikes alongside others before going inside the stores. The shop owners were very welcoming and helpful, either due to their generous nature or the fact that they understood their livelihood depended on the tourist trade. Matt suspected it was the former, as a few were far less hospitable. The shops ranged from low-end tourist trinkets to high-end, locally designed jewelry. Matt was toying with the idea of buying the Tag Hauer watch the salesman had just fastened around her wrist.
“You have very good taste,” Kelly said, coming up beside her. She’d wandered to the other end of the store while Matt looked at the watches in the locked display case.
“I have a confession to make,” Matt said, trying to look serious.
“What?”
“I’m a watch whore.”
“Excuse me?” Kelly asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
“A watch whore. I love them. I have far too many, and I’m a sucker for one that conveys a certain image.” The dozens of watches in her dresser were proof.
Kelly took several steps back, and Matt grew hot as Kelly’s eyes traveled up and down her, paying particular attention to the hot spots in the middle.
“Buy it. It makes you look hot.” She leaned into Matt and whispered, “Wear it, and nothing else, when you fuck me.”
Matt’s pulse raced, and her clit jumped in response to Kelly’s sultry tone and her provocative command. “I’ll take it. No need to wrap it.”
The ride back to the hotel was painful, Kelly’s clit hard in anticipation. She’d thought she’d had enough sex to be satisfied for a while, but the more time she spent with Matt, the more she wanted her. She needed to be careful, or she might end up falling for her. Kelly refused to let that happen. Suzanne, and many of her friends, had shown Kelly that the concept of exclusivity in a relationship was just that—a concept, and not reality. She wasn’t going down that road again in the near future. Maybe even never.
By unspoken mutual consent, they quickly returned the bikes and practically ran to Kelly’s room, making out like teenagers in the elevator during its awesomely slow trek to the sixth floor. After they dashed down the hall, they slammed the door shut behind them and began tearing off their clothes.
The bed had been neatly made, and Kelly wasted no time in tossing the covers onto the floor and pulling Matt with her on top of the crisp, white sheets.
“Jesus, I’ve wanted to fuck you all afternoon,” Kelly declared just before taking one of Matt’s nipples between her teeth and sliding her hand down Matt’s stomach and into her. She was wet and ready. Matt moaned and tightened around Kelly’s fingers. She flicked Matt’s clit with her thumb.
“God, that feels good. I should have bought this watch my first day here.” Matt gasped again and opened her legs wider.
“I don’t know if I want to fuck you like this or with my tongue.” Kelly mimicked her words with her fingers. She had never been this turned on, this fast, in her life. She was ready to come just by touching Matt.
“Those don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”
Matt’s voice was harsh, coming in gasps, and Kelly knew, from the dozens of times before, that Matt was on the brink. She wanted to tease her, keep her poised on that cliff for as long as possible, bring her to the crest, then take her down, then back up again, but she was impatient to experience Matt’s orgasm. She was exquisitely beautiful when she climaxed, and Kelly didn’t want to waste time.
She impatiently slid down Matt’s body, eager to reach her destination. Matt’s breathing was fast and shallow, and Kelly easily slipped into that place that was already so familiar, so recognizable, so ready for her. With her tongue, she started to explore the places she knew made Matt writhe in pleasure.
“Ugh… God, that feels incredible.” Matt gasped, her fingers in Kelly’s hair. “Don’t stop. Just like that.”
“Now” was all Kelly needed to hear a few moments later, and she began to suck Matt’s clit. Matt stiffened for just a moment as the flesh around her fingers pulsed, and then she came in a rush of pleasure so intense, Kelly followed an instant later. Matt held her close as wave after wave of orgasm shot through her. When Matt’s shudders subsided, Kelly flicked her tongue over
Matt’s hard clit, causing another round to envelope her.
It was hours later and very dark when Kelly’s stomach growled. She was lying on her side, her head on Matt’s stomach. The sheets lay somewhere on the floor, the fan slowly circling overhead.
“I heard that.”
Matt’s voice rumbled in her ear as Kelly watched the smooth rise and fall of her breasts. She had been remembering what they tasted like, the way Matt’s nipples grew hard under her fingers, in her mouth.
“You need to feed me if you expect me to keep this up.” Kelly had barely gotten the words out when Matt sprang up and scrambled over the mussed sheets. She grabbed the phone and punched in a few numbers.
“Room service? This is room 6014.”
They filled the time as they waited for dinner to arrive.
Long after the empty dishes were placed in the hall for pick-up by the kitchen crew, sensations flooded Kelly, and she felt the familiar pull of pending orgasm. She drifted away on memories of Matt’s mouth and fingers dancing over her, her skilled hands tracing the lines and curves of her body and bringing it to life all over again. Sex had never been so good. Matt instinctively knew where to go and what to do once she got there. She wasn’t shy about asking what Kelly wanted, often holding back until she told her.
Seconds after another blistering orgasm, Kelly had difficulty catching her breath. She gasped and tried to speak, her voice failing her. Instead, she reached for Matt, wrapped her arms around her, and fell into a deep sleep.
Kelly woke to the sun peeking through the curtains. She glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was after ten. Matt had left earlier, saying that if she didn’t, she’d die of exhaustion. They’d made love for hours, and if she hadn’t collapsed in sheer orgasmic exhaustion, they probably would still be at it. A rush of heat flowed through Kelly as she remembered how passionate Matt could be one minute and ravishing her the next. Matt was the most experienced, fun, intuitive lover she had ever had.
Those would be hard sheets to fill in the future, Kelly thought, and immediately a wave of emptiness rushed over her. She didn’t want this to end. Didn’t want to not experience Matt’s laugh, her sense of humor, her touch. She bolted out of bed, her muscles protesting as she hopped into the shower. She could not and would not allow herself to think about Matt in that way. This was nothing but a vacation fling, and sex was always better on vacation. Kelly kept telling herself that as she tingled under the warm water.
Chapter Twenty-two
“You going to get up, sleepyhead?”
“Leave her alone. She’s been busy.”
“And that’s exactly why she needs to get up. I want details.”
Voices pierced the darkness of sleep far too soon for Matt. She was physically and emotionally exhausted and needed rest. Good Lord. She hadn’t had this much exercise in more years than she could remember. Maybe if she lay here pretending to be asleep, they’d leave her alone. Let her bask in her memories of being with Kelly. The bed bounced, and not in a good way.
“Get up,” Sandra commanded, poking Matt. “It’s almost noon, and we’ve been waiting forever to hear about it.”
“What’s with this ‘we’ business?” Becca piped up. “I’m minding my own business.”
“Bullshit,” Matt replied, rolling over onto her back. “When have you ever minded your own business?”
“Always. Just not when it comes to my best friends. Then it is definitely my business.”
“All right. Let’s hear it.” Sandra settled in on the other side of Matt.
“Can I at least have some coffee before you two interrogate me?” Matt sat up, pulling the pillows against the headboard behind her.
Sandra handed her a large green mug, steam rising from the top. “The official name for this is quid pro quo.” Sandra had her best lawyer voice going on. “I give you what you want, and you give us what we want in return.”
Matt took several sips of her coffee. “I’m having fun, just as the court ordered,” Matt said, referring to the edict her two friends had given her as one of the requirements of this trip.
“What kind of fun?”
“Adult fun.”
“And?” Sandra asked when Matt didn’t add anything to her statement.
“And didn’t Becca already tell you this?” Matt replied, taking a sip of the hot coffee.
“Yes, but that was two days and nights ago. We want real-time data.”
“I’m not going to kiss and tell. Been there, done that,” she said, referencing her confession to Becca the other day.
“Well, you better start now because that mark on your neck is doing all the talking for you.” Sandra pointed to the left side of her neck.
“Ran into a door,” Matt answered sarcastically and tried not to squirm under their scrutiny.
“Looks more like a set of teeth to me,” Becca added.
“You two are acting like this is high school,” Matt said, grateful they couldn’t see the other bite marks.
“So says the girl with a hickey on her neck.”
“I do not have a hickey on my neck.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Sandra said, laughing.
“You look like you got a little too much sun,” Becca commented, pointing to her sunburned nose. “Too much time on your back?”
Both women laughed, and Matt couldn’t help but join in. She loved her goofy, nosy friends, who had only her best interest at heart. Together they’d gone through good and bad, heartbreak and joy, and they’d always come out on the other side. This was no exception.
After getting cleaned up, they headed to the beach and miraculously found three vacant lounge chairs on the far side of the pool. They settled in and ordered tall, fruity, very strong alcoholic drinks and pizza. They chatted about people they’ve seen or met over the past few days and made up stories of what it would be like to live in a society of nothing but lesbians.
A few hours later, Matt’s phone dinged, and she picked it up, expecting it to be Kelly because they’d made plans for dinner. She frowned when she recognized Cynthia’s number.
“Something wrong?” Becca asked.
“It’s Cynthia,” Matt said, feeling like she had a bad taste in her mouth. Her mother-in-law always ruined her day. “Did I tell you the scene we had a couple of days before we left?” Both women shook their heads.
Cynthia had come over unannounced, undoubtedly because a car was parked in front of Matt’s house, and it was only a little after eight. It belonged to a visitor she’d seen go into her neighbor’s house when she had opened the curtains earlier in the morning.
“May I speak with you, Mattingly?”
Cynthia always used her formal name, even after the several times Matt had given her permission to shorten it. She doubted that Cynthia had ever been called anything but her full name in her life. She was petite and always put together to perfection. Andrea had never known exactly how old her mother was, and Matt guessed by now she’d be in her early sixties. Her skin was flawless, courtesy of Botox and expensive plastic surgery, her hair expertly colored to look natural. Matt had never seen a root of gray or a smudge of her lipstick. This morning was no exception.
“Of course, Cynthia. Come in.”
The subtle scent of expensive perfume lingered in the air as her mother-in-law crossed the threshold.
“Would you like some coffee?” Matt asked out of politeness. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage the woman to make herself comfortable and stay a while. Matt chided herself when she remembered that Cynthia was never comfortable in her house, even when Andrea was still alive.
“No, thank you.”
Matt led the way to the family room, and she could practically hear what was going through her mother-in-law’s mind.
Andrea never would have allowed the baseboards to be chipped and dusty. Andrea never would leave a pile of Jordan’s folded laundry on the table. She would have taken it upstairs and put it away. Andrea would have made Jordan put his spo
rts bag in the hall closet where it belonged. Andrea never would have open, empty envelopes on the table, her bills exposed for anyone to see. Andrea never would have allowed spots on the patio door from the dog. Andrea never would have allowed a dog in the house, let alone a bed in the corner, toys strewn about. Andrea never would have…
“Have a seat.” Matt pointed to one of the chairs across from the couch. Cynthia never sat on the couch, and Matt certainly didn’t expect her to do so now. God forbid she sat on the place where debauchery and fornication had probably occurred on a daily basis. She always sat in one of the chairs, her back straight, and she always perched on the edge, ready to escape at any time. This time was no different. It was like she was afraid she’d catch something if she did.
When Andrea had told them she was pregnant, the look of shock and disgust that Cynthia, in all her perfectness, could not hide, said it all. What had Cynthia expected? She knew her daughter had been living with Matt for years, had brought her to family functions, introduced her as her partner, then her wife. Had she really thought they were just roommates? Two women sharing the bills?
She did come to the hospital when Jordan was born, appalled they had bestowed their son with Matt’s father’s name. She never volunteered to babysit, and Jordan had never spent the night at their house. But she refused to be called Grandma, or anything else that resembled it. Jordan called her GG, and Matt knew it made Cynthia nuts. What in God’s name did she expect her grandson to call her? Mrs. Underwood? Matt knew that’s how Cynthia probably thought he should address her. Her husband was somewhat better, but not much. It was clear who wore the pants in the family, controlled the purse strings, and every other cliché there was to describe their family dynamics.
Matt’s parents, on the other hand, were completely accepting of their daughter’s life. Her father helped her build the shed in the backyard, assemble the monster wooden swing set Jordan got for Christmas when he was five, and helped replumb the kitchen sink during a recent remodel. He beamed and handed out candy cigars when Jordan was born and held her up when Andrea was laid to rest. He doted on Jordan, and they often had “man time,” where they would hang out at the park, see a stupid movie, or just generally do guy things. He taught Jordan how to pee in the woods and hold the door open for women of any age. He gave him the finer points of throwing a ball and being a good sport. He went to every event at his school and was often in the front row with the biggest camera. It wasn’t anything Matt could not have done herself, but she encouraged Jordan to spend time with his grandpa. Her mother baked cookies and smothered him with kisses every chance she could. How grandparents could be so different was a mystery to Matt.
