by Lulu Pratt
He takes my right hand in both of his, and starts slowly kneading at my palm with his thumbs. Almost instantly I feel a deep-down jolt, not pleasure, or pain, but something like a knot unraveling in the pit of my stomach, a tension that I hadn’t even known I was carrying suddenly falling away. Ethan kneads even deeper, working his way along the fleshy part of my hand into the center of my palm, and then out to my fingers. I hadn’t even realized that hands could hold onto tension.
He moves from one hand to the other, and instead of the relaxing feeling, something else starts up in the pit of my stomach, or maybe a little lower, down between my hips. It’s heat, and I’m enjoying the feeling of Ethan’s fingers moving deftly on my hands too much to question it. I sigh and catch a glimpse of Ethan’s smile, his little spurt of pride. I have to admit that somehow, it’s actually helping me. I can feel my heart slowing down a little bit, and instead of feeling stressed and overwhelmed, I’m starting to feel turned on.
“What are you doing to me?” I try half-heartedly to pull my hand away, but Ethan’s thumbs work away at still more tension and I feel something melting in me.
“Just trying to de-stress you,” he says.
“It’s working,” I admit.
He switches back to my right hand, and somehow it feels even better. I’m so distracted by how good my hands have started to feel that I don’t even notice that Ethan has leaned in to kiss me.
At first, I’m startled when his lips connect with mine, but I’m so relaxed from his hand massage that I don’t resist. I kiss Ethan back, without even thinking about all the reasons I had in mind, that I always have in mind, for why we shouldn’t get physical. He lets go of my hand and I put my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to me. I press my body against his and just like before, just like every time ever, it feels so good to be close to him, to feel his body and his heat. Ethan’s hands begin to move over me, and I feel myself getting more and more turned on by the moment, it’s impossible to even remember why I told him we shouldn’t get physical.
Ethan deepens the kiss, his tongue probing my mouth, his hands caressing me everywhere. I break away from his lips, breathless, and dip down to the column of his throat, where I can smell some of his cologne and the underlying scent of his body heat. I kiss the spot just above his pulse, nibbling it playfully.
“Should we go to the bedroom?” he asks.
It takes the words a minute to register in my foggy mind.
“No, no, let’s stay out here,” I say. I want Ethan, and by now I can’t talk myself out of being with him again, but the idea of having sex with him in his bed — his marital bed — is too far, even for me.
Ethan pauses, and then kisses me lightly on the lips.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he murmurs, even as he reaches down to start to pull my dress shirt free of the skirt I’m wearing it with. In a matter of moments, I’ve forgotten all about Alexis and my heartbreak and why it’s a terrible idea to hook up with my widowed brother-in-law. Instead all I can think about is how good he feels, tastes and smells, and how much I want him.
Ethan manages to get my shirt off me, tugging it free of my skirt and then unbuttoning it just enough to get it over my head. He breaks away from my lips to nuzzle against my breasts, reaching around to my back to unhook my bra and then lifting my breasts free of the cups to bring one and then the other up to his mouth. I moan, tangling my fingers in his hair, as he worships me with his lips and tongue, sucking and licking each of my nipples in turn until they’re hardened into little pebbles. Each touch of his mouth sends little jolts of pleasure seemingly straight to my pussy.
I’m already soaking wet by the time I get his shirt off him, and I can feel the pressure mounting deep down between my hips. Ethan presses me backwards and I let myself fall onto the couch, my skirt riding up as he covers my body with his. He slides a hand up my skirt and I spread my legs a little wider to let him get to where I want to feel him most. Ethan rubs me through the fabric of my panties and I moan, pushing my hips down for better contact.
We lie like that for a while, touching each other, kissing each other, and my body heats up more and more as I get steadily more turned on by the moment. I get Ethan’s fly open and reach in around the waistband of his boxers, to wrap my fingers around his thick, hard cock. It feels just as good in my hand as ever, and I want more than anything right now to have it inside me. But for the moment I stroke and rub him, even as Ethan gets my skirt up over my hips and my panties down over them.
He begins to play with me while I work him with my hands, both of us getting more and more turned on by the moment as we lie there on the couch, and before too long I almost can’t even stand it. I’m so on edge, inner muscles flexing in tight little spasms, soaking wet from Ethan’s touches and kisses that I want to beg him to just get to the main event. But I’m also enjoying the sound of his groans of pleasure every time my thumb rubs against the tip of his erection, spreading more of the sticky-slick pre-cum that has already begun to leak down over the shaft.
“I think we’re both more than ready to move on,” Ethan says, panting a bit as his fingers slow down against my clit. I nod, breathless, too turned on to even speak.
We both scramble to get out of the last of our clothes, and I wriggle around and about until Ethan is on his back on the couch, and I’m on top of him. He seems happy enough to have me above him, to judge by the gleam in his eyes as I straddle his hips and slowly rub my soaking wet folds along the length of his cock. Ethan reaches up and cups my breasts in his hands, giving them a light squeeze, and I grin, feeling almost high from how intensely I want him inside me.
I shift on top of Ethan and reach down between our bodies to guide the tip of his cock up against my inner labia. I probably, definitely, should have thought of protection, but I’m so far gone that once again it doesn’t even cross my mind. Instead I just sink down onto him, inch by inch, moaning as I feel his heat push deeper and deeper inside of me. Ethan brings my breasts to his mouth and claims one nipple and then the other, sucking hard and swirling his tongue around the hard little nubs, sending crackling jolts through my body to compete with the full pleasure of his cock filling me up. For a few moments we just stay like that, Ethan buried to the hilt inside of me, my breasts in his mouth, absolutely still, and then I get impatient, and have to start moving.
We fall into a rhythm together and it’s every bit as good as it’s ever been between us. It feels so right, so perfect, like Ethan’s cock was made to fit inside of me, and my body was made just to wrap around him like this as I rise and sink down onto him, taking him deeper and deeper. Ethan switches between worshipping my breasts with his mouth and kissing me hungrily, his hands trailing down along my waist to slip between my body and his, and his fingertips finding my clit to rub me steadily with little swirling touches.
It seems like no time at all before I can feel the pressure hitting an almost unbearable level between my hips. I’m moaning, riding Ethan hard and fast as the tension gets tighter and tighter, and all at once my hands tighten on his shoulders. My fingernails dig into his skin as some combination of the feeling of his cock inside of me, and his fingers against my clit, and just everything all at once hits me like an electric shock. The tension just breaks and wave after wave of pleasure washes through me as I climax, still struggling to keep riding Ethan, to keep it going as long as possible and hopefully get him off too.
Ethan rides through my orgasm without hitting his own climax, and then somehow manages to tumble me over onto the couch, while he shifts and moves, pinning me there underneath him. He slows down just long enough for me to recover, to get my breath back, if nothing else, before he really starts again, thrusting hard and fast into me. I would have thought that there was no way I could climax again so soon after the first orgasm, but before I know it the tension is mounting between my hips yet again, and I can feel my nerves tingling, hot and cold flashes crackling through them as I get more and more turned on.
Th
e second time I come, Ethan is right there with me, both of us kissing each other sloppily and eagerly as we hit our climaxes. Mine comes first, by only a bare few heartbeats before Ethan succumbs, and we manage to keep it going for what seems like an hour but is probably more like five or ten minutes at most before we both just slump against the couch, panting and gasping for breath.
It takes me a good, solid ten or fifteen minutes to come back to myself, and all at once it hits me. I’m drenched in sweat, my hair messed, my makeup almost definitely all over the place, in the middle of the morning when I should be at work, on my brother-in-law’s couch with him on top of me. Part of my brain insists that this was a massive mistake, like the first time we ended up hooking up, but another, slightly louder part of my brain counters that it doesn’t matter at this point, and that clearly all the best ideas in the world about staying objective and not getting physical just aren’t going to stick.
Ethan pulls himself up and looks down into my face for a few moments, and I stare back at him in silence before I manage to collect my thoughts enough to speak.
“I’m not going to say that we can’t ever do that again, because obviously it doesn’t matter a hill of freaking beans whether we say we won’t or not,” I say.
“Yeah, good idea,” Ethan says. He dips his face down and kisses me on the forehead.
“But we should probably…” I sigh and shake my head.
“Don’t leave,” Ethan says sharply.
I raise an eyebrow, looking up at him. “What?”
“Don’t leave. The last time we did this you made me go, and I think that just made it harder on both of us,” he says.
I think about that for a moment and I have to admit that it makes at least a little sense.
“I’ll stay,” I tell him. “At least the rest of the day.”
“Can I tell you something?” He shifts and moves me onto his lap.
“What?” My stomach knots and I wonder how much more I can take.
“This might make things easier for you to deal with what we have between us.” Ethan looks out the window and then at me. “I only slept with your sister the once.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Well, she had a difficult pregnancy.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Of course you didn’t, you weren’t talking.”
I sit there in silence, listening.
“Anyway, she suffered from severe morning sickness and I guess she didn’t want to lose the baby. I know that sex is possible during pregnancy, but we weren’t like that together. We weren’t even in a relationship when we discovered we were going to be parents together. We were friends, really acquaintances, who made a baby. I was doing long hours to get as much done before the baby’s arrival and Alexis was exhausted with her own job. We moved in together, got married and had a baby within nine months. We barely had time to paint the nursery. Don’t get me wrong, she didn’t blame me, and I didn’t blame her for what happened, but we were thrown together and had to make the most of it.”
“What about after Riley’s birth?”
“Riley cried a lot. A lot. When it was my turn to look after Riley at night, I just took to sleeping in her room so that I wasn’t disturbing Alexis with getting up and down several times a night. God only knows what we would have done if Alexis had had twins.”
I smile a little at the thought.
“By the time Riley was sleeping through most of the night, Alexis and I had agreed to sleep in different rooms. No one knew, and it made things easier. Alexis was a good mother and a good friend, but we weren’t in a relationship. We were together because of Riley, who we loved with all our hearts.”
“So, let me get this straight, does this mean you have had sex three times in the last three years?”
“Yup.”
“Didn’t you talk about it?”
“I knew it wasn’t a good situation, but I figured that once Riley was older, we could restart the relationship. I guess I didn’t want to address the fact that our marriage was… not ideal. I know that Alexis wasn’t happy about it either, but we were doing our best for our baby girl. Perhaps we hoped that everything would work out in the long run.”
I try to understand what I have just learned.
Ethan shifts and says, “I’m thirsty, can I get you a glass of water?”
While he is gone, I sit there and think over everything. My sister and my ex were in a sexless marriage. I had no idea.
Ethan returns with a glass of water for me. He sits next to me and puts his arm around me.
“We still need to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about Riley, anyway,” Ethan points out. I nod.
“There’s just so much baggage on all sides of the situation,” I say after a few moments.
“Yeah, everybody’s got a stake in this whole… bullshit thing,” Ethan agrees.
“We need to get what’s going on between us right,” I suggest. Ethan frowns in thought and for a few moments I don’t know what he’s going to say. We might, I think, even end up fighting again.
“I guess I have to admit that I never really understood how much pain you were in,” Ethan tells me.
“And now you think you do?”
Ethan shrugs. “It… I guess it sort of hit me, a little bit, at the party,” he explains.
“Why?” I want to hear what he has to say but at the same time I feel almost panicked.
“I just finally really thought about it after the fight,” he says.
“And what did you conclude?” I’m really curious about it now, really interested to hear what he actually has to say for himself.
“I could see, really see, that you were in pain. That it wasn’t just something you’d cooked up to be petty or jealous. And as much as Alexis was hurting the whole time you cut her out of her life, and as desperate as she was to reconnect, you had to… I guess… keep her out of your life so that it wouldn’t hurt so bad,” he says.
I think about that and nod.
“I did. I really thought I did. But it didn’t stop hurting, even when Alexis finally stopped even trying to call,” I admit. It seems almost foolish now, with Alexis dead, that I’d done it in the first place. But I know for a fact that I wouldn’t have been able to stand seeing her and Ethan together in my parents’ home while it was happening.
“I should have stayed away from her after we broke up. I can’t take the blame, but I shouldn’t have even put myself in that position,” Ethan says.
It’s like I’ve been living with a fishhook buried somewhere deep in my chest, between my lungs. For years, the pain was constant, but I’d gotten used to it, and now, with Ethan finally admitting it, it’s like someone took the hook out of me. It’s not complete relief, but there’s this feeling that someday, I might forget the wound had even happened.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a deep breath.
“I think, I hope, I guess, that we can figure things out between us,” Ethan says.
I nod. If Riley’s going to have any kind of chance to have a somewhat normal life, Ethan and I are going to have to work together. Finally, I feel like we might have a chance at doing that.
Chapter Thirty
ETHAN
It’s days before Thanksgiving, and all I can think about is whether or not Lara and I have made a horrific mistake. With both of our parents going to war against each other, we decided, between the two of us, that the best way to try to give them one last chance to settle things was to have a big, family feast, with my parents, Nathan, Riley, me and Lara.
We both were hoping that having a big family meal together, a Thanksgiving to bring the entire family under one roof and at one table, would spark some kind of productive discussion, or at least get everything on the table. I convinced my parents to do it for Riley’s sake, not to make her choose between her grandparents at such a stressed-out point in her life.
Somehow or another Lara convinced her father of the same thing, and we careful
ly negotiated that it would be at Nathan’s house, that Lara and I would manage the details of the food, that I would bring Riley as well as my parents there. But now with only a couple of days to go, I’m having second, even third and fourth thoughts about our plan.
Riley’s napping in her bedroom, so I take my phone off the charger and call Lara. She should, in theory at least, be home, and able to talk. She answers after three rings, sounding a little sleepy or distracted but not irritated.
“What’s up? Something happening with Riley?”
I shake my head to myself. “No, I just wanted to go over the plan again,” I admit. Things were so much simpler, so much easier, when it was me, Alexis and Riley. Even though Alexis was still hurting then over Lara cutting her out, our parents weren’t at each other’s throats about it, and there was no question of who would have custody of Riley. No one had any real reason to fight over it, except for Lara and Alexis, and that had been resolved just by them not speaking.
“The plan is that we kind of force our parents to be pleasant one another, and don’t bring up the actual court stuff,” Lara says.
“How are we going to keep that part of the plan in place? Because I’m pretty sure there’s nothing more that our parents will want to do than talk about the court bullshit,” I point out. It’s something that we’ve been going around and around on ever since we hatched the plan between ourselves about a week before. That was when we’d finally sort of absorbed that the court drama was really, truly going to happen.
“We’re going to say that if they can’t behave themselves around their granddaughter, we’ll take her away,” Lara says, and I can hear that little chill in her voice. I’m glad I’m not the target of it. If you had asked me even within a few weeks after we’d broken up whether Lara was capable of the kind of coldness that would let someone completely cut a family member out of their life, I would have said no. But she was clearly capable of it, even if it hurt her.
“So, we tell them that we’ll pick Riley up and just walk out if they’re not able to maintain their manners,” I say.
