by C. L. Roman
Fuckin’ A!
“Hey.” I spun her around so she faced me. She wouldn’t make direct eye contact, so I guided her chin in my direction. “I didn’t say I don’t want to see you. I very much do. But I think we should keep things casual. You’ve got your fucked-up situation with the old man and I have a lot of stuff going on at work. It has nothing to do with you.” It had to do with me and my need to not let anyone get close to my heart. No thank you. I had been down that road, and it led nowhere good.
“So what I think I’m hearing you say is Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis had it right in the movie Friends with Benefits? No relationship, no emotions, just sex?” Her tone reeked of heavy sarcasm.
“I wasn’t exactly saying that…” Although it did sound right up my alley.
“Well, that’s kind of what I heard.”
“Why are we having this conversation?”
“You’re the one who said you didn’t want to be presumptuous, blah blah blah, and wanted to be honest.”
“Fair enough. Why don’t we agree to hang out and leave it at that? It’s not like I can take you out in public anyway.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
“Abby?”
“What?”
My, my, did I sense a bit of hostility?
“Come on, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s make things easy. Play it out and see where it leads.”
“You just said you want to keep things casual, so that’s exactly where it will lead. I don’t know that I can do that. Going back to my Friends with Benefits example, Woody Harrelson’s character said, ‘She’s a girl. Sex always means more to them even if they don’t admit it.’ Well, in my case, that’s the truth.”
“Do you have that entire movie memorized?”
“It’s a favorite of mine, but that’s not the point. A lot of what is said in it is true to life.”
She was so irresistible, scowl and all.
“I get it. Listen, I’m not like that son of a bitch who’s dangling a carrot in front of you. I’ll let you call the shots. You want platonic, you’ve got platonic. You want to let nature run its course, I’m game for that too, but I can’t give you any guarantees.” I hoped she would choose the second option because it would be very difficult for me to be close to her without my hands touching her.
“There are no guarantees when it comes to relationships.”
“Can we please not use that word to describe us?”
“Someone has relationship issues.” She smirked. “Relationships don’t have to be romantic, Gabe. Every involvement we have with another person is a type of relationship.”
So what if I had relationship issues. Most people I knew did.
“Tell me which you’d prefer.” I wanted this conversation to be over.
“I’d like to hang out with you and see what happens, but I’m scared because a lot is riding on the line—my heart, for one.”
“I get it.”
“Just out of curiosity, why are you so against relationships? Did someone burn you in the past?”
“That’s a story for a different day.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“You have things you choose to keep to yourself, and so do I. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Very well.”
She resumed fetching things from the dining room table and washing them in the sink. I collected the trash and tied a knot in the bag. “I’ll take this to the chute then head to my place. Are you still coming over for breakfast?” A part of me felt nervous she was going to say no. What the fuck is that about? I was the one setting the parameters, yet I was feeling vulnerable as a result. Something wasn’t adding up.
“I’d like to take a shower and finish cleaning up first. I’ll come over in about an hour.”
Don’t do me any favors. Her attitude made me feel that way.
“Okay. See you soon.”
The trash and I headed out of her apartment.
Back in mine, I showered and shaved, my mind going in many directions about what Abby and I had spoken about. I had set clear boundaries, but a part of me didn’t feel right about them, which meant she was already getting under my skin. Fuck!
Chapter Seven
Abigail
Dressed in a flowing skirt and knitted top, I took a deep breath before knocking on Gabe’s door. I checked left and right to see if anyone was in the hallway.
Hurry up! I wanted to get inside. My behavior with him was risky.
He opened the door and his eyes went wide, scanning me from top to bottom. “You look gorgeous.”
He made space for me to enter and I rushed inside. An odd expression cropped up on his face as he closed the door behind me. Yeah, my behavior was odd as hell, but for good reason.
Mr. Hot Stuff was dressed in shorts and a polo, nothing fancy, yet he still looked like a million bucks. I wanted to live in the fantasy of this get-together being a date, so I’d dressed accordingly.
Before I could reply to his compliment, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. I’m talking the type of kiss that knocked the wind right out of you.
His hands cupped my cheeks, tenderness in his touch. The area between my thighs ached, wanting a repeat of what he had considerately given me the previous night. This time, though, I wanted to reciprocate his generosity.
He lifted me and carried me to his bedroom with ease. I held on to his arms, his biceps bulging. The warmth of his body heat against mine causing me to liquify. I’d be a puddle by the time we got to our destination.
I broke the kiss. “I thought we were having breakfast.”
“Breakfast can wait. This can’t.”
His impatience made me giggle.
He placed me on his large bed.
“Wait, my phone.”
“It’s not needed right now.” He chucked the device across the bed.
Gabe skimmed his hands up my legs. I watched him, the hunger in his eyes intense, yet his touch remained gentle—such a paradox.
He got right to it. He tugged my skirt down my legs and tossed it on the floor. Woohoo for elastic waistbands! A kiss was placed on the small patch of hair underneath my G-string—I’d had high hopes when putting it on—only for him to move upward. My top got hiked up and over my head. He didn’t remove the article of clothing, though. Instead, he joined my hands together and wrapped the material around them, binding them. He returned to my abdomen and chest, planting delicate kisses on both. He opened the clasp on my bra and took my nipple between his teeth, tugging on it. His eyes caught mine. Heat suffused me. He cupped my breast and sucked on my other nipple. Lustful madness overtook me. My body writhed underneath him.
His lips found mine again.
“Tell me to stop, and I will.”
Not a chance in hell.
“No, please don’t.”
He smiled and stood at the edge of the bed where he unbuttoned his tented shorts. He dropped them to his ankles. Now my eyes went wide, his erection standing tall and proud underneath his boxer briefs. I sucked in my bottom lip, having trouble catching my breath.
The boxers came off. Holy shit! He was huge, as in earth-shattering huge. I couldn’t suck in enough air to safe myself. He was picturesque. A masterpiece.
Crap. Will he fit inside me? The few times I’d engaged in sex with my ex, if I could call him that, had been anything but memorable, as had his dick size.
Gabe dragged me toward the bottom of the bed by my ankles, lining my ass up with the edge. He glided the G-string to my calves. He popped off my sandals, dropped them on the floor, then ditched the underwear, if I could even call them that. My knees were bent, and my feet placed flat on the bed. I wiggled my toes, feeling antsy, excited, apprehensive, many things at once. He stared between my thighs, which I instinctively closed.
“Oh no you don’t. You’re spectacular, every inch of you.”
He’s playing you.
He just wants to get laid.
You’re being t
oo easy.
He’s never going to respect you.
The back and forth in my head was driving me crazy. The man was sending me mixed messages, or maybe it was my thoughts that were all over the place. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
He moved my knees farther apart, his hand going between my thighs, his finger swiping my folds. “So wet for me, Abby. You’re driving me wild.”
Ditto.
Having no words to speak, I didn’t respond. He did by probing me with that same finger. My eyes closed, and my body melted into the mattress, sucking him in deeper. Screw the negative thoughts, the sensations overtaking me were sheer nirvana.
“I need to fuck you.”
His use of the word need rather than want had me spellbound. A need was essential, a requirement, whereas a want was a craving, a wish for something. There was a huge difference between the two.
His powerful statement had me opening my eyes, staring into his, the look of desire on his face beyond overwhelming.
“Okay.”
Okay? Slow down and make him work for it!
I had told him earlier I didn’t give of myself freely, yet my actions contradicted my words and my thoughts. All I knew was I needed it from him as badly as he did from me; therefore, no wasn’t an option.
Grinning, he darted over to his nightstand to grab a condom from the drawer. He ripped open the packet with his teeth and slid on the protection. Such a confident, masculine act. It caused my legs to fall open wider.
Once again, he stood at the edge of the bed, his stare devouring me whole. I exhaled, my lips forming an O.
He hiked my legs up onto his shoulders. I felt more than exposed. At the moment, I wouldn’t feed into the thought, though, because better ones were screaming for attention.
Acting on impulse, I angled my pelvis upward, indicating exactly what I wanted, rather, needed.
“That’s it, Abby. Let me in.”
And I did, in more ways than the overt and obvious one.
What amazed me the most was that he didn’t rush things. My tormenting thoughts had been wrong. If all he had wanted to do was fuck me, he would have been going at it, getting what he wanted then saying goodbye. He wouldn’t have been acting so patient with my noticeable lack of experience, the inexperience I had yet to inform him about. In this case, my body did it for me.
He entered me at a snail’s pace, allowing my body to acclimate to his large size.
“So tight. You’re so fucking tight.”
“It’s been a while for me, and there haven’t been many.” My hands curled into fists, insecurity getting the best of me.
He smiled. “I’m glad.”
Really?
My brow hiked up, and my hands fell open.
Satisfied with his response, I allowed my eyes to close, my body dissolving into the blanket underneath me. He inched his way inside until he had reached my core.
“Mmm.” A slight moan escaped my lips.
He fit perfectly, large size and all. What a head rush.
Bringing my legs down, he wrapped them around his back instead. He slowly withdrew from me, only to enter me at a steady and mindful pace.
“Tell me if I hurt you. I want this to feel good for you.”
His considerateness blew me away. This man was a godsend.
“It does. It…feels…really…good.”
He kissed me, his tongue rolling over mine, a soft dance to a ballad playing in my mind. Oddly, I felt connected to him in every way possible, as if none of the chaos in my life existed. I was completely lost in him, to him.
He held my bound hands, kissing me, cherishing every part of me, top to bottom. My thoughts were clear as day now. Gabe was full of shit if he said he didn’t feel the magnetic energy taking place between us. I wasn’t naïve. I may have been inexperienced with men and relationships, but I felt a connection to him in my gut, an instinct I trusted wholeheartedly. Mr. Fear of Relationships could deny feeling it all he wanted; I knew better inside.
With every thrust forward, he grunted, tightening over me. I wanted to touch him, but he had done a superb job of securing my wrists. Quick thinking on my part had me using my legs to encourage him instead.
“You like having me buried deep inside you, Abby?”
“Yes…more of it, please.”
“I just don’t want to hurt you. You’re so tight.”
“I told you, it’s been a while. I’ve only been with one other guy and it was years ago.”
TMI. Shut up, mouth!
He stilled over me. “For real?”
“Yes. Please don’t stop moving.” There were a variety of reasons why I wanted him to get back to business: humiliation, it felt awesome, humiliation, my body craved more of him, and did I mention humiliation?
“Fuck. You’re making things hard for me.”
Is that a good thing?
Before I could ask the question, he picked up the speed, sending me on a joyride to paradise. I would have to say it was a good thing after all, because stars danced in front of me. With closed eyes I saw them vividly, bright and twinkly in the night sky even though it was morning.
“Abby…” he grunted.
He kissed me, thickening within me, his body stilling.
“Come with me, baby.”
Baby. I found it hard to believe a man like him threw that word around so easily. Or maybe I was fooling myself into seeing something that didn’t exist, something I wanted so badly.
Between the kissing, his loving touches, and the pumping in and out of me, the stars became brighter. I granted my body permission to free itself, succumbing to its demand for a release, in the same manner he had requested of me the night prior. I fully embraced the lightness sweeping through me, my body trembling underneath him.
Out of breath, he kissed me, his hand on my cheek, his tongue ravishing mine.
When he broke the kiss, he slowed the action down south. He stared into my eyes, brushing hair off my face. No words were spoken, and he had a strange, unreadable expression on his face.
He released my hands and finished the removal process of my top. He rolled off me and shifted onto his back. I rotated my wrists in circles to get the circulation flowing again. Most of the blood in my body was pooled in my heart, collecting there, making it feel full. He had pretty much blown me away with his thoughtfulness.
He tugged the condom off and tied the end. He dropped it on the nightstand and rested with closed eyes, the back of his hand lying over them. I wanted to cuddle but refrained from making the attempt. Oddly, his vibe was anything but lovey-dovey.
“Gabe?” I couldn’t stand the coldness in the room after engaging in such an intimate act. Fucking or making love—I considered both to be a connection between two people.
His eyes popped open. He smiled, a forced one, and pulled me closer. I wanted to ask him what was going on but knew he wouldn’t tell me. I took a leap of faith and draped my hand over his chest. He joined our hands, his thumb caressing my knuckles. His heart wasn’t in the gesture, though. His fingers were tight, tense.
Out of nowhere, he sat up. “Shall we eat breakfast?”
It was as if the previous ten or whatever minutes had never even taken place. I was confused beyond belief as to his state of mind.
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
He scooted off the bed and went into the bathroom. I remained in place, dumbfounded. Used and cheap didn’t do justice in describing my internal state of affairs. They weren’t good feelings, either. He’d said he wanted me to feel pleasure. Sorry, buddy. This was anything but.
The sink turned off and he returned to the bedroom, eyeing me warily. He slipped his boxer briefs and shorts on. “It’s all good. Come on, I’ll make you an omelet.”
Excuse me? “I don’t want an omelet, Gabe. What I want is to have a conversation.”
He obviously didn’t because he bolted for the kitchen.
I snatched my phone off the bed and raced after him. “What’s all good?”
He paused, the carton of eggs already in his hand, facing me. “We are.”
“I don’t understand what happened afterward. You couldn’t get out of the room and away from me fast enough. Please enlighten me.” I crossed my hands over my naked chest, my bra hanging open. I should’ve thought ahead and put clothes on prior to putting him on the stand. Too late now.
“Trust me, it’s not you.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s me, all right? It has nothing to do with you.” The mouth-watering muscles in his arms were somewhat contracted, his jaw tense. Quite a distraction.
“I’m not sure I believe that. I enjoyed what we did…didn’t you?” I had seen the evidence in the condom when he removed it. He couldn’t have faked it.
He wouldn’t make eye contact. He proceeded to get a frying pan from the cabinet and continued with his breakfast efforts.
“Please answer me.”
“I enjoyed it too much…too fucking much,” he mumbled, shaking his head, looking anything but pleased.
Yay! I hid my smile as I returned to his room to clean up in the bathroom and get dressed, giddiness filling me.
Chapter Eight
Gabriel
The omelets weren’t my best work in the kitchen, and for good reason—Abby was throwing me off my game. What had gone on in that bedroom was anything but fucking. I knew it. She knew it. I didn’t care how long we had known each other; something had taken place on my bed, something unfamiliar and scary as shit. Hence, my dickish behavior with her now. I hated myself for acting like such an asshole, but it was self-preservation at its best—the only way I knew how to step back without falling in deeper than I already was. After all, I had specifically told her I didn’t want to be in a relationship, yet the thought of any other man’s hands touching her had me seeing fire.
Abby’s phone signaled an incoming text. She set her fork on her plate and attended to it, typing a quick response then putting her phone on the table, face down. She stared at her eggs, using her fork to play with them.
