“Mmm?” she murmured, heart beating triple time. “If I would…what?”
Oh God, maybe he was hurting as much as she was! Maybe the finality of signing the lease woke him up. Maybe the thought of her leaving was worse than the thought of trying to live together on a long-term basis.
Maybe—
She gave herself a little shake. Listen to what he has to say.
Alex looked her full in the face then and she saw him struggling with something. He swallowed. “This is hard.”
Oh yeah, it would be, wouldn’t it? Maybe he’d never asked a woman to live with him. Of course it was hard. She’d make it as easy for him as possible.
“Just ask, Alex,” she said softly, hope flaring.
“Okay. Okay.” He blew out a breath, sucked another one in. “I…ah…would you…” His jaw muscles were working overtime and he swallowed hard. He looked away for a moment, shook his head sharply then looked back at her. “Would you…would you go shopping with me? I told you before, I really hate shopping. Maybe it won’t be so bad with you around. I need some clothes and I’d like your input.” He narrowed his eyes at her, as if just now noticing her sitting across the table from him. “Do you have the time? I don’t want to interfere with your schedule or anything.”
She coughed to loosen her throat. “Yes, I have the time,” she answered. “It won’t take me long to pack.”
Going clothes shopping. Caitlin’s heart sank down to her toes. He wanted her to go shopping with him. Actually, she was possibly the worst person on the planet to go clothes shopping with. She didn’t know any of the shops in town except the one boutique where she’d bought her few new items—including the do-me dress, and she didn’t think spandex or Lurex would suit him.
He knew she didn’t have an eye for clothes. He just wanted to spend more time with her. Without, of course, actually coming right out and saying so. The coward.
“Sure, Alex.” A clenching of teeth, upturned mouth and a smile was forced out. “And maybe we can go crazy and buy some colors. Dark gray or even,” she blinked back tears, “even navy blue.”
* * * * *
Dawn was about half an hour away. Caitlin lay on her side, eyes wide open, and watched the day begin outside the window. A faint pale blue glow was lighting up the sky, enough for her to start distinguishing the night sky from the poplars bordering his backyard.
She’d been watching the utter blackness of the window all night, barely blinking, hardly breathing. She hadn’t slept at all. She hadn’t even been able to close her eyes. Her body had lost even the notion of sleep. She’d lain awake, staring out the black window, listening to Alex’s even breathing. He was utterly still, not moving a muscle. If she hadn’t heard him breathing, she would have thought he was dead.
Not having slept at all wasn’t a good thing. She had a really busy day ahead of her and she was moving out of Alex’s house at the end of it. Getting through today would require every ounce of self-control she had. The last thing she needed was to be groggy from lack of sleep.
If she’d been in her own apartment, she would have gotten up for a glass of milk or to make herself a cup of herbal tea in the hope of falling back asleep. But she hadn’t wanted to wake Alex up, so she simply lay on her side all night, staring dry-eyed out the window.
For the first time since she’d moved in, she and Alex had gone to bed without making love. Or, rather, having sex. The term “making love” was a misnomer. A scholar should try to call things by their correct names.
They’d come home, Caitlin had packed her few belongings, buried her nose in her questionnaires—though she’d die before she’d let Alex know she hadn’t absorbed one single word—and they’d gone to bed early. Alex had quietly said good night and rolled over. She’d listened to his breathing grow heavy, wishing she could simply follow him into Sandland. Instead she’d watched the sky reach its deepest black, stay dark for a bazillion minutes and was now watching it lighten again.
Sometime during the night, Alex had rolled back over. He was lying on his side, facing her back. She could feel his intense body heat all along her back, head to toe. Any other night, she would have rolled toward him, instinctively reached out to him, touched him. Not now. Even though only inches separated them, those inches were like an endless, unbridgeable gulf.
She no longer had the right to touch him whenever she felt like it. This hadn’t been spoken aloud, but then these things weren’t communicated in words. She’d had affairs and they’d ended. She knew perfectly well when you lost the right to touch your partner at will.
The thought was painful but real. Alex wasn’t hers anymore, in any way. All that intimacy and fun and sensuality—gone, as if it hadn’t existed.
God, the whole night had been so painful, a study in suffering. Breaking up with someone had never been this painful before. Sometimes—as with Marvin the Unready—breaking up had actually been a huge relief. But not now. Now she felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest, leaving a dull black void.
As a little girl, she’d hated going to the dentist, wishing she could just press a button and fast-forward life to after the dentist appointment. The grown Caitlin wished the same right now, fiercely. Staying here, listening to Alex breathe, separated by only a few inches that might as well have been a continent, was so painful it hurt her chest. How she wished there were a Life Remote Control that could let her fast-forward past this morning. Be on the other side of it without having to go through it.
Getting up, having a silent breakfast, the silent ride into town, trying to smile as she said goodbye…
God, she just hoped she could do all that and keep her dignity.
The sky lightened to pewter, leaves on the trees started to appear. A lark sang somewhere nearby. The sky was cloudless. It was going to be a glorious morning. A really good morning to start the rest of her life. Usually that kind of inner happy talk was enough to lift her mood, but not right now. The rest of her life stretched before her like a bleak, empty, lonely plain.
Caitlin stared out the window. Was it too soon to get up? She couldn’t just wander around the house like some lost soul. She was quick in the morning. Even stretching things out, she’d be washed and dressed and waiting downstairs hours before Alex awoke. The only thing she could do was sit on the couch and wait for him, which on the Fun Scale was about zero.
Maybe she could—
Her thoughts short-circuited when she felt a big hand land on her hip, at the point of her hipbone, warm and heavy.
She stopped breathing.
Slowly, the hand smoothed over her hipbone, long fingers covering her belly. Her stomach muscles clenched, a reaction she couldn’t stop to save her life. How embarrassing. At his lightest touch, her body instantly responded, no matter what her head was telling her. She could tell herself to stay still, keep calm, but it was as if a riot had broken out inside her.
The big hand caressed her stomach muscles, moving in a slow circle, round and round. She held her breath, held herself still. As if his hand were some woodland creature and moving would scare it off.
It had been a warm night and the sheet only half covered her. Looking down, she could see his hand on her belly, his beautiful golden skin a shocking contrast to the paleness of her own.
Every sense in her body was concentrated there, where his hand touched her. Warmth swirled, following the movement of his hand. She had to breathe but found it hard. His hand moved lower, rubbing softly, and she bit her lip to keep a moan back.
There was utter silence in the room. She’d noticed that all night. There had been no traffic, no wind, not even dogs barking. And even now, with the morning beginning, they were cocooned in silence.
She was breathing shallowly, finding it hard to suck in enough oxygen, desperate to keep from panting. Alex’s hand cupped her, widening her thighs. A hard, hairy thigh slipped between hers, holding her legs open. A long finger slid along the outside of her sex and she stifled another moan. She was alrea
dy slippery with arousal. He could feel it. She didn’t want him to hear her panting and moaning from his light touch.
Alex knew he turned her on. How much he turned her on was something she wanted to keep as her own secret, particularly now, at the end of the affair. Over the past few days, Caitlin’s body had turned into a sex-response machine that only switched on at Alex’s touch.
Her eyelids fluttered as his fingers began a slow exploration of her labia, lingering over her clitoris. For such a hard man, Alex’s touch was so very soft. Perfect. The exact right amount of pressure moving gently over her most sensitive flesh, not sawing at her as most men did, thinking the harder they rubbed, the more excited she’d get.
They were wrong.
This excited her, so much she had to work not to arch her back, move her hips in the rhythm of his finger. Around and around the finger swirled, slowly, delicately, his touch electric. Caitlin bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.
Her breath left her chest in a long whoosh when a finger dipped inside her, in and out, imitating his cock at the beginning of their lovemaking. Just the memory made her vagina clench and a rush of wetness drench her sex.
He felt it. His finger paused for a second then another finger penetrated her, delved deeply. He spread his fingers, opening her up.
A second later she felt his cock, right there at the opening, the huge head hard and hot. He moved his penis up and down along her labia, nearly causing a heart attack when he rubbed the head over her clitoris. It was as if she’d been jolted by an electric prod.
She held herself as still as she could. Though the sky was lightening up by the minute, it was as if they were strangers, making love in the dark. He touched her only in two places, his big hand—now back on her hip—and his cock, barely inside the entrance to her vagina.
He didn’t move, staying perfectly still. She burned and fisted her hands in the sheets. She knew precisely what they looked like together. Though she was staring at the wall and the window, she could imagine perfectly the image they presented, as if there were a camera in the ceiling.
His head was above hers on the pillow, long, muscled legs continuing way past her feet. The long, thick shaft of his sex between them, connecting them. Tall, small, dark, pale, broad, slender—a study in contrasts.
Then all thoughts flew from her head as his hand on her hip tightened, holding her still as he thrust slowly into her, stopping when he could go no farther, rough pubic hairs thick and scratchy against her bottom.
She stopped breathing, every sense concentrated between her legs, feeling every inch of the hot, hard column of flesh inside her. He’d slid smoothly in without any difficulty, testimony to how often they’d made love and to how much he excited her.
Even men much smaller had sometimes hurt her, just a little upon first entering, but not Alex. He was huge, but she was always ready for him, as if she’d been designed for him. All he had to do was touch her and she opened to him, completely and totally, like now.
Her head knew that they were…estranged, for want of a better word. It knew perfectly well that she was leaving his house today and that it was very possible they’d never see each other again, but something had intercepted this message from her brain to her body. Her body didn’t get the memo. It was open for him, always and—probably—forever.
She closed her eyes at the thought just as he started moving, deep, powerful thrusts that touched all the hot, secret places inside her that had never been touched before. That seemingly only Alex could touch.
The feeling was electric, so arousing it was almost painful.
Alex’s hand slid down from her hip to her thigh, pulling her leg higher and even farther back so that, impossibly, he could plunge even more deeply inside her.
The room wasn’t silent anymore. The bed creaked rhythmically, the headboard banging against the wall, Alex’s breathing harsh, almost grunting in time with the heavy thrusts. The sounds filled the room.
Quickly, so quickly, she felt that slippery, hot slide. He was already bringing her to orgasm, an unstoppable tide, a wave poised to crash over her. She hung right there on the brink, shaking.
He thrusts grew heavier, irregular, and he swelled inside her, growing impossibly larger. He was close too, so close.
She held her breath, her vagina fluttering, heat prickling in her veins. He was pounding into her now, faster, harder…
Caitlin opened her eyes and stretched her neck to finally look at him. She loved the look on Alex’s face as he was nearing orgasm. His face flushed under that golden-olive skin, making him almost glow, the sweat of exertion and excitement dotting his forehead. His mouth became red, suffused with blood, sensual as hell. His eyes narrowed into black slits, staring intently, hypnotically into hers, as if he could walk around inside her head while she came.
Maybe he could.
Alex was a powerful man in every way and, particularly in the last moments of lovemaking, she felt all that male power concentrated on her, like a sexy and powerful laser beam. The world narrowed to the two of them, so close they could feel each other’s heartbeats.
It was her greatest joy, making love to Alex, and her heart soared as she glanced over her shoulder to see him—and froze.
He always had his eyes on her, always, as they made love, never looking away. She’d never had a moment’s doubt that he was with her every step of the way.
But now his eyes were closed, his head and torso reared back, as far away from her as he could get and yet still be connected to her by his cock.
He wasn’t touching her anywhere at all, except for the hand holding her still and the penis in her. He wasn’t flushed, he was pale, his mouth set in a thin, hard slash, deep brackets lining his mouth. He didn’t look overwhelmed with pleasure as he usually did, he looked cold and remote. Utterly separate from her, except that he was making love to her.
No. No, he wasn’t making love to her. They weren’t even having sex. Use the correct term, old Mrs. Robinson, her high school English teacher, used to say.
Okay.
They were fucking.
Alex was fucking a woman. He’d woken up with his usual morning erection and had found a warm female body with the right plumbing. She could be anyone. He wasn’t with Caitlin Summers, he was fucking Anonymous Woman. He didn’t even want to touch her more than was necessary. He was holding himself as far away from her as he could and still fuck her.
The thought pierced her heart just as her body—her oh-so-treacherous body—betrayed her. One more heavy thrust of Alex’s hips, a flash of intense heat and she erupted, muscles contracting around him as he continued thrusting heavily. She stifled a moan with her hand, suddenly ashamed of reacting so strongly to what was just an anonymous fuck. Her body went haywire, as it always did with Alex.
His thrusts were growing shorter, harder, faster, the bed slamming rhythmically into the wall as a counterpoint to her drumming heart. The hand on her thigh grew sweaty and he had to tighten his grip. Later she’d have bruises but she didn’t care because her whole body was caught up in an orgasm so intense she thought she’d faint.
She trembled and shook, her vagina clenching hard around Alex’s shaft, so incredibly drenched that he was making wet sounds as he pounded in and out of her. Heat bloomed between her legs, bright and electric, the sharp, hot pleasure overpowering.
It broke her heart.
While her body was convulsing, sweat broke out all over, her entire body wet, as if everything inside her had to come out. Tears sprang out of her eyes, wetting her cheeks.
Alex followed a second later. A thrust so heavy it almost shoved her off the bed and, buried deep inside her, he swelled and started coming inside her, grunting heavily. She heard the beginning of a shout, instantly stifled. He wasn’t allowing himself anything but the sheer sex act. Putting his penis in an available vagina and getting his rocks off.
That’s all it was. Thinking it was anything else was insane.
Her body didn’t reall
y care. It had its orgasm without her, a white-hot rush of incredible pleasure so strong she shook with it.
She was still convulsing when he pulled out of her. Feeling his cock slide out of her was shocking. Like a plug being pulled. The white heat disappeared instantly and the orgasm stopped, as suddenly as if she’d been doused with ice water. Usually, making love with Alex was like this huge high that gently dissipated. At times, even half an hour after coming, she was still holding him, smiling, as her body rocked to earth.
This was instant chill.
He let go of her leg and the bed shifted as he turned away from her.
While they’d been making love—no, fucking—the sun had come up completely, bathing the room in a warm, buttery light that didn’t warm her at all. She felt frozen, chilled from the inside. Her wet groin was cold in the morning air.
The room was silent, still, as if empty. You’d never know two lovers had just joined.
The smell of their sex was unusually sharp in the air. She’d loved that smell, but now it made her nauseous. Her stomach clenched sharply as bile rose in her throat. Saliva filled her mouth and she swallowed it down. Though her stomach was empty, it was bathroom time, fast, because something was coming up.
Caitlin rolled out of bed, knees nearly buckling. Her stomach clenched again and she knew if she didn’t make it to the bathroom right now she’d humiliate herself in front of Alex.
She stumbled across the room on legs that felt too weak to walk, banging her hip against the dresser, pushing uselessly, desperately at the bathroom door until she remembered that it opened outward.
She finally wrenched it open. Turning, she saw him on the bed. He was lying on his back, one arm across his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at her. On his thigh, his semi-erect penis glistened with her juices and his semen. He lay utterly motionless, as if dead. Only the slight rise and fall of his broad chest showed that he was breathing. Sex with her normally left him breathless, chest moving like a bellows to pull in air as he kissed her neck and breasts in a post-coital cuddle.
A Fine Specimen Page 19
