Not Looking for Love: Episode 3

by Bourne, Lena

  I wrap my robe tighter around myself and sit on the edge of the bed, resting my hand on his thigh. "Let's not argue, Scott. I don't know what came over me before."

  He shrugs and doesn't look at me, doesn't take my hand. His leg is tense under mine. "You just want what you want."

  "I just want you," I say and smile, but it does nothing to soften the hard edges of his face.

  "But is that just a "for now" kinda thing?" he asks, fixing his eyes on mine so hard I just might start crying again. How can he take me for such a heartless, manipulative bitch? How can he not?

  "No," I whisper, willing the tears to stay away.

  "Really?" he asks, his voice softer now, like maybe he wants me to say I'm not sure. But I am.

  I place my hand on his cheek and look into his eyes, wanting him to know none of this is a lie. Never was. "You're the only person I want to be around when I'm the most hurt, the most vulnerable, and it's been that way since the first time I saw you. I don't know why, and I never believed a thing like that was even possible. But I do know it for what it is and…and…"

  "And it is what it is?" He finishes the sentence for me.

  "And you could start trusting me a little more," I say and run my thumb across his lips.

  "Maybe I should." He smiles and cups my face with his hand. "But we can't have sex yet, you'll get an infection."

  "You know all this because of that other girl, right? Your ex girlfriend?" I ask.

  "There was never any question of the two of us having sex again after she had the abortion," he says. "She wanted nothing more to do with me, though she did stay until she felt better."

  "That wasn't very nice of her," I say.

  He shrugs like it's not even important. "No, it wasn't. But she just wasn't in love with me. She married someone else like six months later."

  "Are you still in love with her?" I don't know where the question came from, or why it was the first one that popped into my mouth.

  He shakes his head and smiles at me like I'm simple. "No, not for a long time."

  "But you had sex with her," I mutter, trying not to picture Scott kissing another girl, but failing.

  "Why are we talking about this?" Scott asks. "The last thing I want to know about is your exes."

  I pull my hand away from his face and place it in my lap, looking down at my entwined fingers.

  He sighs and places his hand over mine. "Yes, I had sex with her. But that was more to get back at her, or something. Honestly, it was almost like having sex with a stranger. You know how it is, you're doing it, and it's supposed to be good, but the room's cold, and the bed's too hard, and you're wondering what the hell you're even doing there and just want to get it over with. At least that's how it was for me."

  "It wasn't like that for me, with you?" I whisper, because it's the truth and I'm sure that's what he meant when he said "you know."

  "Really?" he asks and lifts my face so I have to look at him.

  "Yeah," I whisper.

  "Then you should know that I actually Googled all that about sex before I came here," he says and grins, light returning to his eyes like dawn breaking. "And I was really disappointed to find out we had to wait."

  I smile and lean forward to kiss him, wet and hungry. It really is enough, I don't want anything more than to just kiss.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sunday night comes too quickly. I'm standing in the driveway, a cold wind blowing against my back, hugging Scott, unable to let go, fighting the urge to get in the car with him.

  "The weekend'll be here real soon, Gail," he whispers into my hair.

  "I know," I mutter into his chest, but a huge part of me doesn't believe it. Only, I'm acting like a little girl, and I should stop. I release him and take a step back. "I'll come down on Friday, right after class."

  "Really?" he says, his eyes wide and the corners of his mouth curled up like he's trying not to smile. "You should've mentioned that before."

  I smack his arm. "Just go then, if you're going to be rude."

  He kisses me again and then he drives away, and I'm just standing in the driveway, the wind blowing icy drizzle into my face, but I can't move, because I'm still hoping he'll come right back.

  A honk sounds and I move out of the way of Phillipa's car.

  "Did you fall asleep standing up?" she asks as she climbs out of her car.

  I shake my head and walk back to the house.

  "So, how was your weekend?" she asks once we reach the porch.

  I know the grin spreading across my face must look maniacal, but I can't stop it.

  "That great?" she says and grins too.

  "And how was yours?" I ask, because suddenly I don't want to talk about it, fearing that will erase all the magic.

  "Pretty good too, actually," she says. "Oh, that reminds me. Greta is organizing a huge birthday party for me next Saturday in New York City. You have to come."

  I feel my face fall in disappointment.

  "You can bring a date," Phillipa adds, but there's an edge to her voice, like she didn't much like my reaction.

  "I'd love to come," I say and smile widely, hoping to erase my slip up from before.

  "Good, now let's eat, I'm starving," she says and walks past me to the kitchen, digging in her purse for the phone, likely to order some Chinese. I join her, though all I really want to be doing is lying on my bed, reliving the weekend while I wait for Scott to call.

  The week drags like molasses, which is exactly how my brain feels too, for most of the time. Except when I'm talking to Scott, then my mind is clear like a waterfall at dawn.

  "I'm coming over today," I say to him on Friday morning before my eight AM class.

  "No, is it Friday already?" he asks, his voice still thick with sleep, and I'm seeing him perfectly in my mind, his hair all tousled from sleep, his eyes probably still closed, his body nice and warm, and fresh.

  "I just wanted to remind you, in case you forgot," I say, smiling widely. "I'll be there by six at the latest."

  "I better get some more sleep, then," he says and chuckles, and I feel my cheeks grow hot.

  A kid sitting a few rows down is staring like there's something wrong with me, but it's probably just because of the huge grin I'm wearing.

  "Yes, you should," I mutter and say goodbye.

  I feel better now, because I'll see him in a few hours, but I can't sit still, and I'm fidgeting in my seat so much the girl next to me actually tells me to calm down after giving me dirty looks for most of the class.

  After class, I stop by the house just long enough to pack some essentials, which includes massage oils, and a dress for Phillpa's party. I'm on the freeway before four.

  Dad calls while I'm driving, asking if I want to have some dinner Saturday. I agree, because he sounds so distant and lost, even though I don't want to waste even one hour of being alone with Scott. After the call, I turn the radio volume up and sing along to all the songs I know, my voice shrill and desperate, because the abyss is closing in thick and dark all around at the mere thought of sharing grief with my dad again.

  "Well, it's about time," Scott says as he opens the door for me.

  I check my watch reflexively, but it's only a quarter to six so I'm not even late.

  He chuckles. "Oh, that look, Gail. I feel like I'm about to get detention. You should totally be a teacher."

  I grab his shirt, making sure my fingers brush against his nipple as I do, and pull him closer. "You keep mouthing off, and you'll get more than just detention."

  I don't even know what I'm saying, or why, but the words are fitting regardless.

  He leans in and kisses me, and it's like I just took a drink of the tastiest, sweetest, warmest cocktail. I kiss back, wanting more, all, and run my hands down his back, sliding them in his back pockets.

  I don't know how long we stay like that, just kissing in the hallway, but I'm not ready to move anytime soon.

  "I have a little surprise for you," I say later, finding my
jaw actually aches.

  His hands are cupped around my cheeks and his lips are glistening in the half light.

  "Does your back still hurt?"

  "Yeah, a bit," he says and grins. "Why?"

  I break away from the hug, and pick up my bag. "I took a massage class a few years ago. Maybe I can help."

  "Well, it's worth a try, anyway," he says, trying not to smile, which just makes his face shine that much brighter.

  I smack his arm and take his hand, pulling him after me to the bed. "You better watch that mouth or I'll change my mind."

  But I won't, because running my hands across his body is all I want to do right now.

  "What do I have to do?" he asks when we stop by the bed.

  "Strip," I say, biting down on my lower lip, warmth rising between my legs.

  "What, all the way?"

  I nod and shift my stance, because the ground is wobbly beneath me. "And stop asking so many questions."

  He peels off his shirt, tossing it at my head in response. He's already got the belt of his jeans loose by the time I can see again. I ball my hands into fists to prevent myself from running my hand down his hard abs. His jeans are on the floor now and his hard cock is neatly outlined by the black boxer briefs he's wearing.

  "All of it," I say, my voice throaty and soft.

  He smiles like he's too shy to take his underwear off with me watching, and I sigh in frustration.

  "Fine, fine," he says. "Calm down."

  And then he peels the waistband down, and his cock springs out, bouncing against his stomach, making me shudder.

  "Your turn," he says and takes a step toward me, peeling the jacket off my shoulders.

  He unbuttons my shirt, slowly and deliberately, his fingers brushing my skin each time his hand passes down to the next one. Anticipation is coiling inside me, ready to burst free, but I make no move to hurry him along. Once he's finally done, he slides the shirt off my shoulders, his eyes fixed on my breasts, which are barely hidden by my mesh and lace bra. And I'm seeing what he's seeing, my erect nipples, my belly rising and falling from the slow breaths racking through me.

  He unbuttons my skinny jeans and pulls them down. I help him, because now anticipation is coiled so tightly inside me there's hardly any room left. I reach back to unclasp my bra, but he lays his hands over mine. "No, let me do it."

  I let go and kiss him lightly. "Just hurry up."

  "Patience, Gail," he whispers, and works the clasp loose, my boobs bouncing slightly as they come free.

  He runs his hands down my sides, staring down, and slides my panties down across my hips. The cold air meeting the heat between my legs makes me shudder.

  "Wow, Gail. You really have a very nice body," he says.

  And before he said it, I was ready to forget all about the massage. "Just very nice? That's not exactly what I wanted to hear."

  He grins and bites his lower lip a little. "No, well, what I wanted to say is that you look perfect."

  "Right," I say, my voice strict and firm, like I'm not ready to believe him. But I see myself the way he sees me, and I'm gorgeous, not an inch of skin out of place. "Lie down now. On your stomach."

  He obeys without another word, and I collect the oil I brought, and climb on the bed beside him, checking the labels.

  "How about some coconut?" I ask.

  "Whatever you want, Gail," he mutters, gazing at my reflection in the window.

  I swing my leg over him so I'm sitting on his thighs and unscrew the bottle, letting a few drops dribble across his back.

  He gasps. "It's cold, Gail."

  "Shhh. It's just perfect," I say and move his arms so they're under his head.

  Then I begin to work the oil into his back, moving my hands in slow, soft circles, until his entire back is glistening like a lake, reflecting the day's last light.

  I begin to push harder, tracing his hard muscles from his neck down to his lower back, kneading and pressing. His flesh is so soft and yet so firm, and I could totally just do this for the rest of the night. I move my hands to his shoulders and massage the knots from his muscles there, making him sigh.

  Some of the moves I'm making are the ones I learned, but mostly I'm just placing my hands in the way that feels right, touching him the way I want to. He wriggles a little as I run my fingers down the sides of his back and I smile.

  "I didn't know you were ticklish?"

  He lifts his head and smiles at me in the reflection on the window and I run my hands up his back again, tracking the ripples formed by his shoulder blades. Time doesn't move and I keep adding more oil as his skin soaks it up, until I'm pretty sure he's asleep.

  I stop and he shifts his head, looking back at me. "Is it time for the happy ending now?"

  I'm so wet and hot I can think of nothing better. I climb off him and rub my oily hands over my own breasts and stomach.

  He flips over and I slide my hands down his rippling stomach, staring at his cock. I could take it in my mouth, and I'd be happy, but I want more.

  I reach down into my bag and pull out the three boxes of condoms I bought.

  "Are you sure you're ready?" he asks.

  I nod my head and mutter "mhm" because I was ready last weekend, and I don't really want to get into it right now.

  He balances up on his elbow and takes the boxes of condoms from my hand. "Well, you sure bought enough of these."

  I shrug. "I didn't know which would be best. The guy at the drugstore looked like he wanted to ask me out when I piled them on the counter."

  "Oh, I bet he did," Scott says. "So, which do you want to try? I'm partial to these right here."

  I shrug and nod. It's the extra thin ones.

  "Or maybe we should go with the classics," Scott says, holding up another box.

  "Whatever's fine. Stop fussing," I say and rip open the box.

  He reaches in and pulls out a packet, breaking the foil. I watch him slip it on with a practiced motion, like he'd done it a thousand times before. A cool liquid settles in the pit of my stomach at the thought of all those other girls, sitting right where I'm sitting now. But it only accentuates the heat still rising between my legs.

  He leans back and gazes at me, his lips slightly parted. "You better get on top, so you can decide how much you want."

  I swing my leg over and push him down flat on the bed, making it wobble, his cock hitting my stomach.

  The condom is already lubed, but even if it wasn't, I'm wet enough. I wrap my fingers around the base and lift my hips, shifting them slightly so it's resting against my clit. I sigh and wince as I sit on it too fast and the head jars against the bone over my opening. He gasps, but his eyes are narrowed, and he's studying my face so intently, I feel like I'm on display.

  "It's not exactly small is it?" I mutter and work my hips in small circles on his cock. Honestly, I don't know how I could take it so easily the last time. Must have been the adrenaline clouding my better judgment.

  "What? It's about average," he mutters, lying back down, his hands behind his head.

  "Yeah, right," I say and begin working my hips in wider circles, moaning as more of it slides in. My heat is pulsing around his shaft now, and I rock my hips back and forth, wanting to feel more of it, wanting all of it inside me.

  I pull off a little, and adjust my position so his cock is sliding right across the most tender part, then sit back down, wincing a little as it goes deeper still. I repeat the motion, working even more of it inside.

  Heat is rolling into my stomach, and his cock seems to expand inside me, slippery now, becoming a part of me. I slide up and down faster, whimpering as each penetration sends sharp waves of searing heat into my stomach, my chest, my mind. It's like my entire body is a huge lake of molten lava, building, growing deeper, threatening to overflow and consume us both.

  He's got his hands on my hips now, holding me steady, his muscles coiled, transferring tension into me. I lean into his hands and buck my hips faster up and down, round and round. T
he lava is in my blood now, searing through my entire body. He grunts, his fingers digging into the sides of my hips, and I feel his seed fill the condom. It's the last drop that causes the lava to spill. My vision turns a bright glowing red, my whole body scorched by the explosion erupting between my legs. I might have screamed out, I'm not sure, because even my voice is burned away by the raging flame.

  I lie down across his chest, shaking like a leaf. His cock slips out of me and I want to put it back, but I'm too drained to move.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  We woke up a few hours later and did it again. The next thing I know it's ten AM and the sun reflecting in the windows of the building across the street is blinding me.

  Scott is already awake, laying on his side watching me sleep.

  "Finally," he says and brushes my hair away from my eyes.

  I bury my head in the spot where his neck meets his chest, snuggling close to get away from the sun.

  "Do you have any coffee?" I mutter.

  "Sure," he says. "But I don't know about milk."

  "How can you live without milk?" I ask.

  "It's a struggle," he says and chuckles a little. "But you know, suffering makes you stronger."

  I run my hands over his biceps, heat rising over the soreness between my legs. "You're plenty strong, I'll give you that."

  "I'm actually trying to slim down," he says.

  I gasp and whip my head back, my face probably the perfect picture of outrage. "You can't do that!" My palm's wrapped tightly around his bicep, like I'll never let him.

  "Why?" he asks and flexes his biceps, the muscle bulging out forcing my fingers apart. "This is ridiculous. People are scared of me."

  "So?"

  "Well, it has its uses," he says in a hollow voice, then chuckles. "But I'm about one gym session away from not being able to feed myself.

  I shake my head. "You have to keep going to the gym."

  "And then what? You'll spoon feed me?" he says and smiles.