by Amy Brent
“Why did you get up and come sit with me?” I asked after the waitress brought us our bill.
Steven scooped it up before I could and pulled out his wallet. “I was watching you for a while. I had decided that if you saw me, and if you smiled, I would come over.”
“And if I hadn’t smiled?”
“I probably would have left,” he shrugged, dropping thirty dollars on the table.
“You don’t have to buy mine,” I said. “Please let me.”
“Nah,” he said, waving his hand at me. “Don’t worry about it. I want to.”
That awkward silence returned. Our conversation wasn’t natural like it used to be. Every word felt like I had to work for it. Every sentence felt like a masterpiece.
“Would you want to come over tonight by any chance? We can catch up in private and, I don’t know, try to reconnect?” I asked, bracing myself for rejection. “I’d like to talk more.”
Steven tilted his head to one side thoughtfully. I was sure he was going to shoot me down. After what I had done, and how things had ended, I wouldn’t blame him. The choice was his to make.
“Sure,” he said. “I’d like that.”
“Really?” I said.
Steven chuckled. I remembered how much I loved the sound of his laugh. “Yeah. Really. Eight o’clock alright?”
“Yes, it’s perfect. I’ll cook dinner.”
Steven nodded as he slid out of the booth and put his jacket on. “Sounds good. I’ll bring the wine.”
I nodded. He buttoned his jacket and gave me one last small smile before he turned and left the diner. I stayed in my booth, my heart hammering in my chest as I thought about him coming over to my place that night.
The waitress passed by and gave me a knowing smile. “Quite the catch you have there,” she said, nodding to the seat Steven had just vacated.
“Yes. He is. He isn’t mine though,” I said.
“Oh.” The waitress blinked. “Really? The way he was looking at you when you came in here made me think otherwise. I think he likes you, sweetheart. And I have to say, if I were you, I’d be willing to do anything he wanted me to.”
I couldn’t help myself from laughing. The waitress giggled too in a proud sort of way—as if she had been trying to make me laugh.
“If he’d have me, I would too,” I said. “But I made some mistakes that I don’t think he can forgive me for.”
The waitress frowned. “A man who is still holding on to anger doesn’t look at a woman like that. I’m just saying. Maybe he’s moved on. You’ll never know unless you go for it.”
“Right,” I said, standing up and gathering my things. “Thank you for everything.” She gave me another smile, and I went out the door, the bell chiming above my head. It was easy to give advice when you weren’t the one who carried the guilt.
As I walked back to the office in the cold, I thought about Steven. I thought about how intense the sex had been in the bathroom at The Italian Corner. He had been angry. He had fucked me even though he was angry. Even now, three months later, I still got wet thinking about it.
Then I would be sad thinking about how he left me there alone. His face, when he turned back to me, had been so anguished, so distraught, that I couldn’t keep myself from crying. I cried for him. I cried for what I had done to him.
If he had somehow found a way to put all of this behind him, I would be relieved. I didn’t want him carrying around that grief and betrayal. I wanted him to move on; even if that meant he and I could only be friends.
I would take whatever part of himself Steven was willing to give me. He was worth it.
Chapter 17
Steven
I stared at the number pad outside Allie’s condo. It was strange to be standing outside her building again. In the past few months, I had driven by a few times—only because I needed to on my way to other places—and each time I had looked up the steps, hoping I might catch a glimpse of her. I never did. The last three months had been entirely Allie free, and if I was honest with myself, it had sucked.
I missed her, everything about her. I missed her care-free laugh, and the way we used to be able to talk for hours about anything and everything. And the way she would rest her ankles on my thigh when we watched movies. Now, in the colder weather, she would nestle her feet between my legs and the couch to stay warm. I missed the smell of her shampoo, and the home-cooked meals she prepared for me whenever I visited.
And I missed fucking her.
I buzzed her suite, and she let me in. I climbed the stairs and found her apartment door open for me. I shook my head, smiling to myself. She had fallen back into old habits.
I kicked my shoes off and called down the hall to her. “I see you have started leaving your door open again. Just because we haven’t been talking for the last three months doesn’t mean you can start being reckless again.”
“Oh, please,” she called back to me. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
I believed her.
I made my way down the hall and rested against the archway into the kitchen. Allie was stirring spaghetti sauce over the stove. She was wearing tight black leggings and a gray sweater that showed a little bit of her midriff. Her feet were bare, and her toes were painted red.
She ladled some sauce on to the wooden spoon and held it out to me. “Try,” she said, cupping her hand beneath the spoon. I let her feed me a mouthful.
“Delicious,” I said, wiping my bottom lip where a bit of sauce caught me.
“Perfect. It has to simmer a bit longer and then we’re good to go.”
I held up the bottle of red wine I had brought over. Allie nodded approvingly at my choice of an earthy merlot, retrieved two glasses from a cupboard, and handed me her corkscrew. After opening the wine, I poured us each a glass.
The first mouthful was a bit bitter, but it mellowed out after that.
Twenty minutes later we were sitting down to dinner over a plate of spaghetti. Allie had prepared sides of garlic bread and Caesar salad, and my mouth was watering as I stared down at all the food.
“Are you trying to make up for three months of lost dinners in one meal?” I asked, twirling some pasta around my fork.
Allie sipped her wine and shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe.”
“You know how to manipulate me, Allie Wright, that’s for damn sure.”
“I’m glad you agreed to come over,” Allie said after swallowing a mouthful of salad. “It feels nice to be sitting here with you. A little odd, I will confess, but definitely good.”
I couldn’t say she was wrong. Sitting in her apartment felt almost foreign. “Well, after I saw you in the diner, I figured it was fate that had us run into each other again. I don’t think the timing could have been better?”
“No? How do you mean?” Allie asked.
“Well, I think that, maybe, I’m ready to put everything behind me. Move on. Forgive.”
Allie stopped eating and put her fork down. “Really?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “But on one condition.”
“Anything.”
I met her eyes. I wanted to make sure I was crystal clear about my expectations. I had no intentions of running into a similar situation in the future. I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it. The anger at being betrayed had taken me a long time to process. Even now, if I thought about it too long, I could work myself up again.
“I need to make sure there isn’t anything else you’re hiding from me.”
“I’m not Steven, I swear,” Allie said.
“Hang on a second,” I said gently. “I mean it. I won’t do this again. If there is anything—anything—now is the time to tell me. No more lies or secrets.”
Allie nodded. “No more lies or secrets. Steven, I promise, there isn’t anything else. That was the only thing.”
I waited, staring into her eyes to see if she would falter. She didn’t. She held my stare, and the look in her eyes was enough for me to believe her. “Okay.
” I breathed out. “Okay. Good.”
“Good,” she smiled. She lifted her wine glass and held it between us. “Friends again?”
I tapped my glass to hers. “Hell, yes.”
Allie and I both sipped our wine at the same time. Our eyes never left each other over the rim of our glasses. After setting them down, Allie sighed. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. I played this moment over and over in my head, but I never thought it would happen.”
“When you played it in your head, were we sitting here?” I asked.
“Sometimes. Or in the living room. Sometimes we were at your house. Sometimes you showed up at my work and surprised me and told me you forgave me,” Allie giggled bashfully. “Then things would go back to normal. We would have our usual movie nights. We would be us again.”
“What happened after I forgave you in these moments you imagined?”
I saw her swallow. She fidgeted with the stem of her wine glass before she gathered the courage to speak. “You kissed me. You held me. And then you fucked me.”
“Huh, imagine that,” I said, slowly rising to my feet. “That’s exactly what I was planning on doing right now.”
Allie stood too. Our eyes never left each other. I stepped around the table to stand right in front of her. I put my hand on her waist. Her bare skin beneath my palm reminded me of how good it felt to touch her. Her hand closed over mine, and she guided me down the front of her leggings between her legs.
“It’s already better than I imagined,” she whispered as she lifted herself up on her tiptoes and kissed my jaw. “And the stubble,” she purred. “The stubble is perfect.”
I let her hand guide me where she wanted. She set me to rubbing her slowly up and down the length of her pussy. I could feel the heat through the thin fabric of her leggings. I cupped her cheek with my other hand and held her steady, inching closer and closer to her lips with mine.
The kiss was thrilling. My cock was hard and pressing up against my pants. I had been missing this and missing her for a long time. I was straining to feel her pussy wrapped around me again.
She returned my kiss with equal intensity. We didn’t break apart even when I lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I carried her to her bedroom. I dropped her on the bed. She sat looking up at me, smiling coyly as I undid my pants.
When my fly was undone, she reached out and tugged my pants down my hips. Then she worked my boxers down. I came free, and she took me in her hands, running her fingers up and down the length of my shaft.
Then she leaned forward, her lips parting, and licked the head of my dick. After a couple more teasing flicks of her tongue, she wrapped her lips around me and eased me into her mouth until I felt the back of her throat close around my cock. She held herself there until her mouth became slick and wet, and then she began sucking me off.
I watched her, and as I did, I ran my fingers through her hair. I tightened my hands into fists, gathering her hair in my palms, and held her steady as I moved my hips for her. She kept her mouth open and stared up at me as I slipped in and out of her throat.
Her hands wandered up my thighs and brushed my balls. They were tight with excitement, and she massaged them gently, rolling them in her palms delicately.
I held her mouth over my cock as deep as I could. She took all of me. I felt her throat contract once, twice, three times, and then I withdrew. She took a deep breath and wiped her mouth with shaking fingertips, then looked up at me and ran her tongue over her lips.
I put my hand on her chest and pushed her down onto her back. I pulled her leggings down over her ass and the length of her legs. When they were free of her ankles, I rained kisses all the way up her shin, over her knee, and steadily upward until I reached her panties. Then I tore those off her, too. I heard lace rip. She didn’t care.
I flipped her over. She sat on her hands and knees at the edge of the bed, her back arched so that her ass and pussy were up in the air for me. She was watching me over her shoulder. She still had the little gray sweater on.
I stepped forward and rubbed my cock up the length of her pussy. She was wet and swollen. I slipped the tip of my dick inside her. She flinched as I stretched her out. She was tight—tighter than she had been. She must not have been fucking much for the last few months.
I pushed my cock deep inside her. She moaned and clutched her sheets. She hung her head but kept her back arched for me. I put my hand on the small of her back and screwed her, hard and deep, until I was about to explode.
I pulled out just in time. I wasn’t ready to stop. Not yet.
She gasped when I slipped a finger into her. I didn’t let her recover. I slid another finger in and pushed down, right against the spot I knew she liked. Her back hunched for the briefest moment. I knew I could make her orgasm in seconds.
I fucked her hard with my fingers. The only thing stopping me from going deeper was my own knuckles.
“Come on baby,” I said to her, flicking my fingers in her juicy pussy. “Let it happen.”
She did. She threw her head back to the ceiling and let out a whimpering cry of pleasure. As her pussy filled with her own juices, I pulled my fingers out. She squirted, spraying my thighs and her sheets. As she quivered on the bed, I stepped forward again. I slicked my cock with the juices on my fingers and then proceeded to thrust myself deep inside her.
She cried out again and collapsed forward. I grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her up, holding her as close to the edge of the bed as I could get her. I wanted to be deeper. Always deeper.
She came again. I felt her walls constrict around me as I mounted my own orgasm. I bucked against her, and she went wild. Her thighs shook, and she buried her face in her mattress to muffle her scream.
When I was done, I gave her a couple slow thrusts, enjoying the way my cum felt inside her. Then I pulled out. She dripped on the bed. I slapped her ass lightly.
She rolled over and lay on her back, looking at me. “That was better than all the ones I imagined,” she said breathlessly.
“Damn straight. That little pussy of yours deserves to be fucked like that,” I said, making my way to the bathroom. I left the door open while I cleaned myself off.
“Do you want to stay for a while? Watch a movie? Spend the night?” Allie called from the bedroom.
I pumped some of her hand soap into my palm and paused. The offer was tempting, but things were moving quickly. I didn’t want to throw myself in too deep again. Friends was a safe place to be. Friends who fucked was a great place to be—especially with Allie. That body and that pussy of hers were too good to pass up.
“Allie,” I said, leaning back to look at her through the open door. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Maybe another night?”
“Oh,” she said, sitting up and pulling the blankets over her still naked lower half. “Yeah, that’s fine. I have an early morning tomorrow anyway. I’m sure you do, too.”
“Yeah, I do,” I lied.
The only thing I would be waking up to do was jerking off while thinking about the session she and I had just had.
Chapter 18
Allie
My pussy was wet when I woke up the next morning. It was early, only quarter to six, and my alarm wasn’t set to go off for another half-hour. My dreams of Steven had woken me, and now I was horny as hell, and my pussy was aching for something—anything. I wanted Steven’s cock again. I wanted him in my mouth, down my throat, and in my tight little hole.
I wanted to feel his body grinding against mine. Thinking about his tender kiss, and how it had become something feral and savage made me wetter. I wished he was there to fill me up.
I settled for my own fingers, running them down my belly and over my clit. I wandered down the length of my slit, easing my folds to the side like petals. All the while I thought about how Steven had fucked me the night before.
When he had bent me over and shoved his cock into me, I thought I might scream. I hadn’t had sex in over th
ree months, and his dick felt bigger than I remembered. He hadn’t warmed me up, either, like he usually did. He had gone right for it, thrusting deep inside me and not holding back.
Then, right in the middle of it all, when he had used his fingers, I lost it. It had felt so damn good.
I slipped a finger into my pussy and pretended it was Steven’s. I wanted him to do that to me again.
I used my other hand to caress my bud. My orgasm was close. I was so wet. I was ready to be fucked again. I wished Steven had stayed the night. We could have woken up together—or he could have woken me like he did that one time by pressing his erection up against my back. What a delightful way to wake up.
I sucked in a breath and held it while my pussy tightened. My toes curled. I held my breath as my orgasm shook me. I let it consume me and didn’t gasp for air until I was done.
I stared at the ceiling for a while afterward, catching my breath, enjoying the ticklish sort of feeling as I ran my fingers over my pussy until my alarm went off.
There was no better way to start the day.
At work, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that had settled in my belly since my morning session. I was worried that Steven wouldn’t reach out again. Maybe he had got what he wanted. The way he had left the night before kept replaying over and over in my mind, and the anxiety over losing him reached an all new high.
