by Kyle Autumn
It sounds like she mutters something like, “Not at all,” under her breath, but when I ask about it, she says, “Nothing. Yes, I have a date tonight. After Friday dinner with my parents. And, no, I’m not telling you anything about it, especially with the state you’re in.”
“Ugh!” I scream into a pillow on the couch. To Zo, I say, “Fine. I’m just going to have to keep myself busy. Thanks for being such a great friend.” I nearly hang up, but I hear her laughter through the line.
“Girl, you need to talk it through with him. Talk. That thing you do with your mouths when they’re not pressed together.”
“Right. That thing friends do for each other when they’re having a rough time,” I spit back at her.
“We’re talking right now. Stop being a baby and get on with it,” she says. “Take the reins back!”
I just blink for a minute. I am being a baby. I need to grow the hell up and get over it. That sounds like something I…well, can’t do, but I can fake it until I make it. At least until Shiree’s back. Once she’s on her route again, I won’t have such a high chance of running into him. Then I can think about forgetting about it all.
“Thanks,” I say. “I think that actually helped.”
“Good,” she tells me. “Now, I’m gonna finish painting my nails. For my date tonight.” She giggles.
I pull the phone from my ear and shout, “Way to rub it in!” But I’m laughing too. So whatever. Then I hang up.
They’re both right. This weekend will be a long one if I can’t get my shit together. And there’s no reason for me to not have control of this situation. I’ll stay busy and then take the reins back. I can do this. Yes, I can.
How to stay busy though? What can I do by myself? I could go to dinner, but then people will stare at me. I could bring food back, but then I’d be at home. Then a great idea hits me. One where I won’t be stared at for being alone and I won’t be sitting in my apartment. Brilliant.
I shower, change, and grab my purse before heading out the door. And hey, maybe I’ll turn a head or two and won’t have to even think about him the whole night. That’d be absolutely lovely.
***
Blake
When it’s my turn in line to buy my ticket for the movie, I hear behind me, “You have got to be kidding me!” So I spin around and come face-to-face with her.
Lyra. My angel. She’s here. Because I wasn’t already confused and hurt enough. Now, I can add a layer of what-the-fuck to it. If there really is a God, I must have pissed him off like crazy. Otherwise, why else would I deserve this level of torture?
“Why are you here?” she asks me, anger radiating from her small frame.
“I’m here to see a movie,” I plainly state.
She throws her arms out to her sides. “Wonderful.” Then she drops them and they slap against her jeans. “Why are you seeing this movie of all the movies here?”
“Uh, because I like it?” Then I shrug. “And maybe it reminds me of a certain someone who actually said, ‘As if!’ out loud in my office.
She gives me a pointed, squinty stare. “I love this movie. Don’t ruin it for me.”
Instead of addressing her again, I turn back to the cashier. “Two for the showing at eight thirty, please.”
“What are you doing?” Lyra asks my back.
Without turning around, I say, “Buying our tickets to the movie.” Then I hand my card over to pay.
“No. I can buy my own.”
But the cashier has already swiped my card, so I take it back from her and slide it back in my wallet.
“Too late.” I smile wide at her. “Seriously, it’s no big deal.”
Her hands ball into fists though, so she must think otherwise. And she tells me so. “You may not think it is, but I do. I’m here so I don’t think about—” Then she slaps her hand over her mouth to cut her word flow off.
So she doesn’t think about me? Is that what she was going to say? I’ve never hoped harder that someone was actively trying not to think about me, but that’s how it is right now.
I take our tickets from the cashier and then ask Lyra, “Do you want popcorn or anything?”
Her jaw drops. “Did you not hear what I just said?”
“I heard you,” I tell her as we get in line to go inside the theater. When we stop, I continue. “And the plain truth is that I’m here for that reason too. But we’re both at the same place at the same time, so we might as well make the most of it.” I hold her ticket out for her.
After a few moments of silence and a brief stare-down, she snatches hers from me. “I can buy my own damn popcorn,” she mumbles under her breath, handing the attendant her ticket.
Fine. She can buy her own popcorn. But she’s not buying her way out of sitting next to me. That’s for damn sure.
Chapter 10
Blake
Well, she’s sitting next to me. Stiff as a board though—a sexy board, to be honest. Almost audibly counting the minutes down until this movie is over. And I can’t blame her. I’m basically doing the same thing, but I’m trying not to make it visible. She deserves better than that. And I don’t, so again, I don’t blame her. I hurt her like an asshole, and it’s becoming clearer and clearer how much. She said that we were just having sex, but apparently, she wasn’t being honest with me. She could have told me the truth, but I should have known she isn’t that kind of woman. Even if she were, she wasn’t to me.
Still isn’t. And all I can do is hope that it isn’t too late for us. Or that it isn’t too late for me to change her mind.
When the final credits start to roll, Lyra immediately stands up and takes a step in front of me to leave. The problem is that I also try to stand up, so my leg lands in front of hers and she trips. And falls. Right into my arms. I catch her and pull her to me so she doesn’t land on the dirty theater floor. I think she’s going to struggle out of my grip, but for a moment, she melts against me. Her eyelids flutter closed and her already-bent legs buckle even more. I’d chalk it up to my wishful thinking, but I blink a couple of times and she’s still here in my arms.
I lean closer to her face, almost about to kiss her, but I think better of it for once. She was furious when I did that earlier, and even though I think she wants me to, I don’t. Instead, when she opens her eyes, I lean back and set her on her feet. But I hold her, my hands on her upper arms, to keep her steady.
“Thanks,” she says, tucking her short hair behind her ear.
I smile at her, gesturing an arm out in front of me as a cue for her to go ahead. As long as she wants to be soft with me, I’ll take it. I haven’t yet earned it, but I’m selfish. So selfish that a place a hand on her lower back to guide her out. She flinches slightly, yet she doesn’t remove my hand. I keep it there as we both walk out to the parking lot.
“Where are you parked?” I ask near her ear once we’re outside.
“Just walk to your car,” she answers, staring straight ahead.
I should ask her why. I should question this and lead her back into her right mind. Because something is up with her and I don’t want her to regret anything later. But I’ll probably regret not taking advantage of this opportunity to spend some more time with her. To torture myself even more. Whichever it is. I don’t even care. Being with her is being with her. That’s all there is to it.
When we reach my car, I take a gamble and open the passenger’s side door for her. Luckily for me, she gets in. I shut the door and head to the driver’s side. Once I’m in, I turn to her.
“Do you need a ride to your car?” I ask her.
She just shakes her head.
“Then what’s this—”
That’s all I get out before she turns the tables by leaning over the center console and kissing me. It’s deep, full of a love-hate ferocity. It shocks me to my core, but it also feels as natural as breathing. Like it’s exactly what I’m supposed to be doing right now. Like there’s nothing else in the world I’d rather be doing—because there isn’t.
So I kiss her back, take her into my arms, and hold her close to me.
She grabs my face and runs her hands through my hair before tugging and turning me the fuck on. That’s all it takes for this to go from zero to my-dick-is-stone. And that is all it takes for reality to hit. For what we’re doing to register in my head. The one on my shoulders.
I pull back to look into her eyes and try to gauge what’s going on in her head. While she looks like she might slap me, she settles back into her seat and puts her seat belt on instead.
“You’re not doing that to me again. Take me home.”
I wrinkle my brow. “But I could just take you to your car.”
She hits me with a hard stare—a sexy, hard stare. “I didn’t mean my home.”
As stunned as I am, I still manage to sprint into action. I start my car and clip my seat belt before pulling out of the parking space and heading out of the lot. The ten-minute drive to my house is quiet—mostly because I don’t want to say something stupid and obliterate this opportunity I’ve been handed. I do wonder what’s going on in her head though. Is she thinking this through? Are we going to have sex? Are we going to get to my place and talk instead? What’s she thinking about? Why is she trusting me? My god, the questions never end.
In fact, they only get worse when I put my car in park in my driveway and she hops out of the car. She marches straight to my front door, and then she stands there and waits for me while I’m still behind the driver’s seat, watching her in awe. Because this is a sight I never thought I’d see again. Oh, I hoped for it. But I didn’t think it’d happen, so I have to take an extra second to let it soak in. I don’t even care if we stare at the wall for five hours once we get inside. She’s here. Where she belongs. That’s all that matters.
Until she throws her arms out to her sides and raises her eyebrows at me. Then her anger matters because I don’t want her to change her mind. So I get out, unlock the front door, and let her inside.
“Want anything to drink?” I ask as we walk through the doorway.
Her only answer when I look at her is her lips on mine and her purse dropping to the floor. She starts to claw at my back to get my shirt over my head, but I’m so surprised that I hold her by her upper arms and pull her back.
“Whoa, angel. Shouldn’t we talk about this first?”
She shakes her head. “Talking is what got me in trouble the first time. No talking.”
I’m in a bind here. I want nothing more in life than to be able to give this woman, my angel, anything she desires. And, right now, she seems to desire me. It won’t be permanent though. It’s just a Band-Aid over the wounds we’ve created. And I don’t deserve any part of her yet. So…which route do I take? The one she wants or the one I deserve?
“You owe me this much,” she tells me, leveling me with her gaze. Which almost brings me to my knees.
“I think I owe you a lot more than a quick fuck right now.”
“Who said anything about quick?” she asks, pointing to the stairs.
My jaw ticks. Just when I think this woman can’t get any further under my skin than she already is, she surprises me. Digs in a little deeper with this confident side of her. It’s the side she showed me when we left the party that night. But, by the time we got back here, she was timid and shy in the same spot she’s in now. In this moment, she’s determined to get what she wants. And she’ll do what it takes. Who am I to stop her?
I shrug and pass by her on my way to the stairs. She drops her arm when she realizes I’m complying, following behind me up to my room. When we get there, I gesture an arm out for her to go in before me. She’s running the show, so she can take the lead now. And she does. She stalks straight to the bed, tugs her shoes off, and then gets to work on the rest of her clothes. In a matter of seconds, she’s completely naked and approaching my nightstand like she knows what she’s doing.
Which she does. Unfortunately, though, she’s not going to find what she’s looking for in there.
“Seriously?” she asks when the drawer is open and she’s discovered that it’s empty.
“Seriously,” I tell her.
She slams the drawer shut. “And how long did it take you to get through them all?”
“It’s not what you—”
“Stop. Never mind,” she says, holding a hand up. “I don’t want to know.”
Again, I’m at a crossroads. I could listen to her, do as she asked, or I could explain. But I started this night off with doing what she wants, so I won’t stop here. It won’t change anything anyway. No matter the reason they’re gone, she’ll still leave here and likely never come back.
“We can do other things,” I explain. “I don’t need—”
“This isn’t about you,” she says.
“You’re right.” I take a step toward her. “So let me make this about you.” I risk another step closer.
When she gives me the smallest nod a few seconds later, I close the space between us completely and envelop her in my arms. She tugs at the hem of my shirt, so we break apart for a moment to remove that, but then she’s back. She’s so soft, so warm, and so right against my skin. As soon as I pick her up to place her on the bed, I realize that what I thought was torture before wasn’t anything close. Because not having her in my life at all is awful, but having her within reach and even being able to hold her while knowing she’ll never be mine is a fate worse than death.
***
Lyra
Yet again, I’m naked in Blake’s house. Naked in his bed. Naked with Blake. And, with my luck, he’s fucked himself right out of condoms. Ugh. I should go. I should be disgusted and I should leave. But, yet again, my car isn’t here and, quite frankly, I need a good release. If I’m going to have random sex—or whatever this is about to turn into—with anyone, he’s the best option, seeing as I’ve already been with him. And let’s face it. The orgasms this man can give me… That’s just what I need.
So I stay. I let him place me on his bed, and I let him to kiss my neck so gently, so softly, that I melt a little. That I allow myself dream of a day when this could be every night of my life. Of a time when Blake would pepper kisses on my collarbone and trail his lips down to my navel on a regular basis like he’s doing now. Even though that’d be some alternate reality because, in this one, he’s a manwhore and I was nothing more than a blip on his radar.
So, in this one, I let him make whatever this is we’re doing about me. It’s the least I deserve if I can’t seem to let him go: one night of good memories not tainted with him not being there at the end.
The second he puts his lips on my pussy, I realize that this will be a night of good memories. But, the second he parts my lips and sticks his wicked tongue inside me, I realize I might have a hard time remembering them later. The way I feel when he’s touching me is intense. So intense that I’m worried I’ll black out from the pleasure. But I ground myself in the moment and try to sear the memories of being with him inside my brain. Because this won’t happen again—I’ll be stronger next time.
Next time though. Not now. Now, I’m giving in. I’ll keep my power, but I’ll save my strength for another time. Assuming there is another time.
He swirls his tongue all around my pussy before landing on my clit with just the tip. A low whisper of a moan leaves my throat. Then he repeats the pattern several times until I’m writhing and panting, frustrated with being so close to my release and not receiving it but thoroughly enjoying his method anyway. By the time I’m pulling at his hair, I’m ready to explode. But he’s not ready to give me that yet. That’s okay—I’m not ready for this to end yet.
Instead, he trails his tongue from my clit, up my stomach, to between my breasts. When he’s hovering over me, he sucks one nipple into his mouth, lightly biting the tip until I’m arching off the bed. He releases it, so I fall back down, but then he moves to the next one, treating it the same way. And I react the same way, moaning as I arch my back to push my nipple farther into his mouth. The action
pushes my pussy up against him, and I can feel how hard he is through his jeans. So, so hard.
I fist the sheets when he pulls away, letting a deep sigh escape my lips. He falls next to me on the bed, lying on his side, facing me. When I look at him, his face is marred with worry and a little sadness. I wonder if it’s because he’s probably not used to not being the center of attention in bed. But I don’t have to wonder long.
In my ear, he whispers, “When this ends, are you going to leave?”
I’m still panting; I don’t want to speak. I don’t have words anyway, so all I do is shrug.
He kisses my shoulder, gets more comfortable, and reaches a hand down. He slides a finger between my lips and through my slick folds. Involuntarily, I quiver at his touch. I’m so wet and sensitive from his tongue’s attention, so the stroke of his fingers makes my thighs shake. The closeness of him and the tenderness of his caress combine to create a dizziness in my head. And then his words almost make me lose it.
“I’m sorry, angel,” he tells me as he pushes a finger inside me. He strokes in and out a few times, slowly and rhythmically, before adding a second finger. And he repeats his apology again and again as the rest of his body and all of mine join the rhythm of his fingers. “I’m sorry, angel. I’m sorry, angel.”
His chant continues as I climb higher and higher to my release. As we both move in sync like we were made to dance like this together. As I finally break apart into a million pieces because his words have sunk in and I don’t know what to do with them besides give us both what we’re currently chasing. I wrap my arms around his neck and shudder through my release. When my face presses against his cheek, I vaguely notice something wet between us. But it doesn’t become fully apparent until the shudders have subsided and I can breathe normally again.
To find out what it is, I try to pull back from him, but he squeezes me tighter to him instead. And, if I’m hearing things right, he sniffles just a little. Is he… No. He can’t be. Like hell is he going to cry on my shoulder after what he did to me. Nope. No way. The only thing he’s going to do is watch my ass as I walk away from him to pay him back in kind.
