by L. B. Dunbar
She doesn’t respond to the question in her name. Instead, she leans forward to kiss me. At first, her hands cover my jaw, fingertips rubbing at the scruff while she deepens the kiss.
“I think you want me in bed in the mornings because you have an issue.” Before I can respond, she’s gone into distraction tactics, and her feet come to my waist, pressing down my shorts. The length of me, stiff and hard, is on display. We need to talk, but something in her eyes tells me not to speak. She scoots to the edge of the chair, her legs on either side of my hips, and suddenly, the center of her meets the heat of my dick. Bare. Raw. Ready. Lily’s hand comes between us, and she positions my tip at her core.
“Lily?” I question again, but she simply shakes her head, then slides forward, drawing me into her depths. Her mouth comes to mine, ravenous and demanding, and my body kicks in despite the unspoken weight between us. I scoop my forearms under her knees, lifting her lower legs to my shoulders. She grunts as her body curls, and I use the arms on the chair to leverage upward. I’m in a near plank position as I piston into her, thrusting in rapid, short jabs. Lily has slipped to her back, her ankles by my ears. Her eyes focus on mine, but the intensity is too much. I turn to kiss her calf as my hammering deepens.
Let me in, I demand with each movement forward. I want back into your heart.
There’s a hesitation between us. I feel it, and I put it there, but her body…her body doesn’t hold back. She’s meeting me pulse for pulse, groaning my name as her hands come to the arms of the chair. Lily has strength, and she uses the solid arms to roll upward. Within seconds, she screams my name, milking me so hard I see stars. I explode inside her. I can’t seem to stop. I’m coming and coming and coming, filling her with my seed.
Let me in, I beg. Take me back.
I finally still, but our chests drag and drop. Ragged breaths fill the silence between us. I hover over her although one of her legs has slipped down my arm. My arms shake, and I collapse to my elbows, unwilling to pull out of her yet unable to move.
“What was that?” I chuckle softly, feeling myself jolting within her.
“Good morning,” she whispers, leaning up to kiss me too quickly.
It certainly is a good way to start the morning, but I’m also sensing she’s telling me something else. Something I won’t like.
+ + +
Lily says she’s going to read for a bit after we clean up. I’m too antsy to sit still and decide to go surfing. I’m too on edge and can’t find my groove, so I fall one too many times. It’s not my balance but my concentration. Our rapid morning sex felt more like a desperate goodbye than a morning greeting. Eventually, I give up on the waves and rest on the edge of the shore.
“Hey, old man, come play.” A guy bouncing a volleyball with his fists calls out to me. A few of the younger set have teased me about my skill on the board despite my age, but it’s all in jest. I stand slowly, wiping sand from my quick-dry swim shorts. I should head back to the house, but I’m not ready to face Lily. I don’t know what we’re doing. Something lingers between us like a fine mist, though I’m pretty certain I know what it is. The past. I can’t take any of it back, and I’m sensing Lily can’t let it go either even though she said she forgives me.
“Sure, I’ll play,” I decide, knowing full well I’m using the game as a stall tactic. I can’t face her saying goodbye to me too soon. We still have three more days.
The game is rough at first. I haven’t played beach volleyball in years, but slowly, a rhythm comes back to me. Bump. Set. Spike. We play four on four, and I enjoy the competition as we tease one another within our team. It’s been a long time since I’ve hung with guys of any age. I don’t have many friends outside Hank and the mechanics who work at the garage. Our game isn’t a scene from Top Gun, but healthy male bodies on the beach can’t be dismissed, and it doesn’t take long for a crowd to start building around us. I’ve gone up for a block when I hear my name.
“Nice save, Brut.” Her sweet cheer turns my head. How long has Lily been standing there?
I’m not paying attention to the game but taking in her pink Because Cupcakes baseball cap and the skirt like material at her waist accentuating her bikini body when I’m knocked in the head with the ball.
“Come on, old man. Keep your head in the game.”
I wink at Lily and turn back as a man around my age on the other team comments. “I’d be distracted by that, too.” His rough voice and deep laugh sets me off. The next ball that comes to me gets spiked right at him. The crowd goes crazy as my teammates hiss and clap with a resounding, “Oh,” and, “Take that.”
“You got this, boys,” filters to me again from Lily, but I keep my focus. We need one last point.
It’s my serve. I haven’t jump served in years, but wanting to show off a little, I attempt it. Two steps, a short leap, and a hard smack, and the ball goes to the back, left corner of the makeshift court. Game point. The crowd goes wild again, and my teammates rush me with claps on the back and high fives. A few well-wishers watching also step onto the court and pat me, but I’m distracted, searching for Lily.
Finding her in the crowd, I jog up to her. Adrenaline still courses through my body with the win, but my heart bumps with excitement that she watched me play.
“Did you see that?” I clench my fists and tug my arms to my waist with excitement.
“I saw it,” she says. “You were amazing.” She chews her lip as her loose hair blows in the breeze despite her ballcap. She looks adorable.
“What are you doing here?”
“When you didn’t come back, I thought I’d come down here to find you.” There’s more to her statement. Was she waiting on me? I’m covered in sweat and sand from the game, but I want to hug her for coming to me. My eyes roam over her pink cap and the light material draped at her waist.
“Can that get wet?” I ask. Her eyes narrow, and her head tilts.
“Yes, but—”
“Got a cell phone on you?” Her eyes pinch deeper, and her mouth curls.
“Yes.” She’s lying, though. There’s no place to tuck a phone in her bikini or short skirt. I bend at the knees and wrap my arms around her thighs, hiking her up and over my shoulder.
“Brut,” she screams, laughing as her hands lightly smack my back. “You wouldn’t.”
My response is to race to the water’s edge. Knees high, I traipse into the ocean until I think we are deep enough. She bellows my name one more time as I call out, “Hold on,” and we go under. A wave crashes over us, refreshing my skin. I stand, righting Lily before another wave knocks her over. Her cap comes loose, and I reach out for it before it drifts away while still holding her hand. Lifting the sodden hat, I flip it backward and place it on my head. Lily’s breath catches as she looks at me. Her hands come to my cheeks, and she leans up on tiptoes in the water.
“You are so hot, Brut.” Her mouth crashes into mine, nearly knocking us back into the waves. I chuckle under her attack, and when she pulls back, a large smile graces her face. “But that was so mean.”
She’s still smiling, so I know she’s not really upset. Scooping up water, I rinse the wet sand off my shoulders and my chest. As Lily watches me, my heart races again. I like how she’s looking at me as though she might be the one to force us back in the water. I reach out for her waist and drag her to me for another kiss.
“I’m glad you walked down here,” I say as I take her hand and lead us to the shore. We head for my board.
“I feel kind of bad about yesterday.”
My head snaps in her direction as I lift the board from its perch in the sand. “What? Why?”
“The zoo. I feel like I bamboozled you into going. I wanted to make it up to you.”
“Lily pad, you didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. It was the best first date ever. But I’m curious how you want to make it up to me.” My brow raises as we begin walking. I’m still wearing her cap backward on my head, and I’d like to hold her hand, but I’m car
rying my board.
“I found a kayak cave tour. I thought…maybe…you’d like the adventure.”
“Hell, yes.” I chuckle, reaching out for her nape and drawing her to me for a quick kiss. “That sounds awesome. When?”
“In about an hour.”
“Oh my.” I laugh heartily, lowering my hand to link my fingers with hers.
“It could be our second date,” she says hesitantly, and I stop us by our joined fingers to kiss her again.
“I’d like that.”
We walk the remainder of the beach chatting about surfing, volleyball, and whether Lily’s ever kayaked before. As we reach the deck of our place, I set my board on the side of the house and head for the outdoor shower. It’s protected by the house on one side and thin fence panels on two other sides, but one part remains open. Lily stands on the deck as I turn on the water, her mouth opening as she points toward the door. She’s about to say something, but I’m not letting her get away. I reach for her and tug her under the spray with me.
“Oh my God, that’s cold,” she shrieks before my mouth crashes on hers. I can’t stop kissing her.
“I’ll warm you up, sugar,” I say against her lips, deepening the kiss and pressing her back along one barrier.
“The neighbors,” she whimpers between kisses. “They’ll see us.”
“Let them watch,” I growl, reaching for her soggy skirt and removing it, hearing it slap on the deck boards at our feet. My fingers make quick work getting under her bikini bottom. “You’re so ready for me, Lily pad.”
She moans as she lifts one leg to my hip. I push down my swim shorts just enough and lower her bikini bottoms. She wiggles her legs, forcing the wet material to the shower floor. Bending at the knees, I scoop under her center and impale her with one swift thrust. Her head falls back as her nails claw at my shoulders. We don’t match in height, and I reach for the back of her thighs, lifting her upward. Her legs wrap around my hips as I bounce her over me. Still pumped from the game and the date she planned, something snaps inside me.
“Were you saying goodbye to me this morning when we fucked?”
Lily gasps. Whether from the force of my thrusts or the sharpness of my words, I don’t know, but her mouth lowers to my shoulder, and she nips me in response.
“I’m not saying goodbye, Lily pad. I’m not saying goodbye ever again. You got that?” My fingers dig into the back of her thighs as her heels press into my backside. I’m so wound up; I’m not going to last.
“This is going to be quick, baby.”
“Give it to me,” Lily pants in my ear, and I explode. I stumble, releasing one leg as my hand braces on the backwall of the shower. My head lowers to her shoulder as I jet off inside her.
“Holy shit,” I exhale against her wet skin, and then I pull back to look at her face. “You didn’t.” It’s a fact. I was too quick.
“It’s okay,” she dismisses, pressing a kiss to my bicep.
“It’s never okay.” Pulling out of her, I skate my fingers over her hip for the promised land but her firm hand stops me at the wrist.
“We don’t have time. Second date awaits.”
While I don’t want to leave her unsatisfied, I like the sound of that. A second date.
21
What if
[Lily]
Our second date is a twilight kayak adventure into sea caves. It wouldn’t be my first choice of explorations, but it seemed different and something Brut might enjoy. I wasn’t as strong as he was at kayaking, but I could keep up, or he held back. Either way, we stick together as we follow a guide into the ancient caves of La Jolla. It’s pretty cool, and I try not to let my claustrophobia press in. I find the older I get, the more I develop strange issues I didn’t have before—like a fear of enclosed places.
Brut is thrilled with the adventure and thanks me three times for planning the date. Of course, he refuses to let me pay again. I want to protest, and actually do, but then I finally give in. It seems more important to him whose credit card covers the fun. It’s late when the tour ends, and we grab fish tacos off a food truck near the kayak rental shop. I don’t typically eat out—keeping up the healthy eating habits as he pointed out— but I also like to cook enough I don’t need other people making food for me. Eating out appears to be a staple of Brut’s life, and I wonder if he’d stay in if someone cooked for him.
Ironically, his kitchen becomes a conversation topic when we return to the house. He reminds me of how I promised to help him renovate his home as we sit together on the couch with our feet propped up on the ottoman. I’m nursing another hard lemonade while Brut downs his beer.
“So, here’s the basic layout. What would you put in it if it was yours?” Brut sketches the outline of his kitchen, and I can see it’s narrow. He admits it’s old, dated, and underused lately.
“If it was mine,” I emphasize, “I’d have a top of the line stove. Stainless steel. You need a large farmhouse sink. Double-door refrigerator.” I pause, imagining my dream kitchen in a house, not an apartment. Besides the fact I don’t own it, my place is too small for luxury appliances. As I admitted to Brut, I don’t need more as I use the bakery for most things, but sometimes, I think it would be nice to have a home not attached to other places.
“What color is your place now?” I ask, still concentrating on the design.
“Brown.” My head rolls on the cushion to look at him, waiting for more details.
“Brown? That’s it.”
“Yep. Brown cabinets. Brown appliances. Just brown.”
“Brut”—I laugh—“that sounds awful.”
“It is.” His voice lowers as he takes a pull of his beer.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Nope. It’s awful.” He sets the beer on the tray on the ottoman and turns to face me. His arm comes over the back of the couch, and his fingers play with my hair. “Tell me what color you’d make it. Tell me about your dream kitchen.”
This seems like a dangerous game, but I’ll bite.
“White cabinets. White subway tile backsplash. Maybe black countertops. Granite actually. I’d love an island like this place has. Maybe an open plan with a living space like this house as well. In fact, if I could move this house, it might be perfect.”
Brut nods. “Except there is no beach where we live.”
“Not close enough, true.” I’m on the northeast side of Los Angeles while Brut is up in Pasadena.
“What if we bought this house? As a second home?” I don’t miss the we.
“What if,” I tease, wiggling a brow even though there’s no chance I can own beachfront property. Everything I have is wrapped up in the bakery.
“And what if I gave you your dream kitchen?”
“What if,” I joke again, growing slightly uncomfortable with the possibility because the probability of it happening is zero. Yet my heart races within my chest.
“What if I asked you to move in with me?”
My shoulders stiffen as I stare at him. He can’t be serious.
“Are you…making future plans?” I pause a beat, my breath catching. “Hypothetically, if you asked me, I’d have to say…” Yes. “No.”
“Why?” His brow furrows as his fingers stop twirling my hair.
“Because I own the shop, which includes the apartment upstairs.”
“But what if…you moved?”
“I’m not moving my bakery.”
“Not the shop, just you.” Suddenly, I’m not sure I like this game. He must be teasing me, and I don’t feel like playing anymore.
“I think we should stop,” I say softly.
“Stop what?”
“Stop the what-ifs.” Because there are so many other what-ifs we could address, but I don’t want the answers to those. The pain would be like picking at an old scab. I’d bleed again and have to heal. The process took long enough the first time.
His eyes search my face. “Okay, Lily pad.” His arm shifts back f
rom my shoulders, and he reaches for the remote. “How about a movie?”
It’s a strange request. We haven’t watched anything other than the ballgame the other night. He’s doing it to fill the awkward tension suddenly between us. Hoping not to ruin our second date completely, I agree. Once he selected something, he returns his arm to my back and tugs me against him. I’m not focused on the rom-com before me, though, as my thoughts travel back to more what-ifs.
+ + +
I’m the one to wake alone on the last full day of our vacation. A light blanket covers me on the couch. I’d fallen asleep during the movie but thought that Brut rearranged us so we both lay on the cushions. I see that isn’t true. Shifting to my back, I stare up at the ceiling until the smell of bacon hits my nose. I sit up, peering over the back of the cushions to find Brut working in the kitchen. I never purchased bacon, so he must have stepped out for the salty treat I deny myself.
He’s wearing my Because Cupcakes cap backward on his head again. I giggle at the pink against his skin but realize I like seeing him with it. I also like seeing him working in the kitchen. What if he did give me a dream kitchen?
A whisk scrambles eggs in a bowl.
“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he says as he notices I’m awake. I’m sure beauty is the last thing I am with my hair all over the place, but Brut’s smile tells me he means what he says. He thinks I’m beautiful.
“I slept here all night.” I’m a little concerned we didn’t sleep together. Maybe the what-if game turned too serious for him as well.
“You did. I couldn’t rouse you to save your life, so I just let you be.”
“I’m sorry,” I answer, crossing my arms over the back cushions.
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because I didn’t want to sleep without you.”
The whisk thuds in the bowl as Brut sets it down on the counter and rounds the island. Within a second, he’s cupping my face and climbing over the back of the couch, flattening me into the cushions as he straddles me.
