by Noelle Adams
The move stretched out my body, and he lifted his head to stare down at me, breathing raggedly.
I stayed in the position he’d put me, desire coiled tight between my legs but my heart beating erratically. Despite his transition into sex, Sean was still in that strange mood. There was more than just arousal in his face right now.
It was hunger but also something deeper, something conflicted, something aching.
I had no idea what it was, so there was no way for me to answer it.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, wanting to respond to the need I felt in him in any way I could. But Sean just moved my arms back to where he’d put them before, stretching my body out beneath him.
He stared at me for a long time before he lowered his face to my neck. He kissed and licked his way from my neck to my breasts, and I was gasping and arching up into his mouth when he reached around to unhook my bra.
I was nearly naked now except my little white lace panties, and he was still wearing all his clothes except his shoes, which he’d taken off before I’d even gotten there. I normally wasn’t too fond of his arrangement—me being the only one naked—but I was too distracted by everything else to have a problem with it tonight.
My body was already torturously aroused, and I still didn’t understand Sean’s mood.
His eyes were raking over my body. When I shifted with the need to ease the throbbing of my arousal, he slid his hands up and down my arms, like he was making sure I stayed in position.
Then he finally lowered his mouth to my breasts. He kissed and nipped and suckled until I was whimpering helplessly. Then his mouth moved even lower, skimming over my belly. He got so close to the top of my panties that my hips bucked up involuntarily, instinctively seeking his mouth.
He’d never gone down on me—just like I’d never done it to him. I’d told him that first evening I wasn’t comfortable with it until I got to know someone better.
I knew him better now. I wouldn’t have had any complaints if he’d moved his mouth between my legs. He didn’t though. He just slowly slid off my underwear, his eyes devouring the sight of the skin he bared.
Then he lifted his body up, repositioned, and lowered his head back to my breasts. He kissed and caressed me until I couldn’t lie still. Once, my hands flew up to grab at his hair, trying to hold him in place, but he moved them back above my head so I had to clutch at the bedding instead. The whole time, he didn’t say anything.
That was one of the things that was so unusual about tonight. Sean was so silent.
He was a talker—in bed and out of it. He was never so wordless, never so quiet. The thought distracted me for a minute until he spread open my legs and stroked me with his fingers.
I was wet. Very wet. Embarrassingly wet.
My body wanted him so much it was out of my control.
He usually smiled when he discovered this proof of my desire, but he didn’t tonight. He fondled me until I was on the edge of orgasm, gasping and fisting my hands in the bedding. Then he pulled his hand away.
I gave a frustrated sob and tried to grind myself against him, but I’d lost the momentum of climax now and was still achingly aroused. I was writhing beneath him as he returned to my breasts, and after a few minutes I discovered I was begging him in broken gasps. “Please... please... I need... Oh God! Sean, please!”
Finally—finally—he lifted his head, and my skin broke out in goose bumps as he stared down at me again for a long time. I have no idea how I must have looked, stretched out in the position he’d placed me, my spine arching involuntarily, my hips impossible to hold still, my hair messy and occasionally sticking to my damp face.
I felt sexy and helpless and deep and needy and so incredibly vulnerable.
And I still had no idea what Sean was feeling right now.
“Sean, please,” I whispered. “I need you to fuck me now.”
My words must have broken through his emotional tension because his features twisted slightly and he reached over to the nightstand for a condom. He was still fully dressed in his suit and tie, but he undid his trousers, freed his erection, and rolled the condom on.
Then, very slowly, he moved into position, parting my thighs wide and bending up one leg and the other so my knees were almost reaching my chest. He seemed to like that position the best.
He slid inside me with aching slowness, and when he started to thrust, it was just as slow. He built up a rhythm, rocking my body with his motion and staring down at me with those haunted eyes.
It felt so good and so torturous and so exactly what I wanted that I was mumbling out breathless pleas for him to take me, fuck me, make me come hard. At one point, I reached up to tug at his suit jacket, but he just moved my arms back to their former position. So I clung to the bedding and wondered why I loved it so much, needed it so much—letting him do this to me.
It took a long time because he kept his rhythm slow and even, but eventually my body couldn’t hold back anymore. I shook and sobbed through a long, deep orgasm, and he didn’t stop or slow down as my body clamp down ruthlessly around him. He fucked me until I came a second time—just as powerful, just as long-lasting.
I was hoarse at the end of it, tears streaming from my eyes.
He’d been watching me the whole time—ravenously gazing down at my urgent responses to him—but something must have struck him about my tears because he paused and asked thickly, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I gasped, my fingers still fisted in the sheet above me. “Yeah, I’m good.”
I was more than good, but I wasn’t sure how to express that he’d just given me the two best orgasms I could remember.
“You want more?” he asked, sweat beaded on his forehead and the bridge of his nose.
“Yeah. More. So much more.”
He pulled out of me, and I was about to object until I realized he was just repositioning us. He lifted my legs so my ankles were on his shoulders and he leaned forward, bending my body in half as he entered me again.
I made a strangled sound as I felt him sinking farther inside me.
“Okay?” he asked breathlessly.
“Yeah. Good. Good.”
He was deep. So deep. Much deeper than usual.
Despite his rigid control, I didn’t think he could last long in this position.
I was right. His breathing had become thick and fast, and when he started to thrust, it was in short, choppy strokes.
He was too deep for me to come again, but it didn’t hurt. It all felt incredibly good. Deep and raw and slightly uncomfortable and like he was so far inside me he was fucking my soul.
I’d never experienced anything like it before.
I couldn’t move my hips, folded in half like this, so all our motion was his. He pushed into me fast and hard and kept grunting like an animal each time he did.
It took me a minute to realize that his grunts were actually my name. “Ash... Ash... Ash...” He said it over and over as he built up toward climax.
Soon there was no way I could keep my hands above my head, so I reached up to tangle my fingers into his hair. I held on to him that way, and this time he didn’t try to move them back. His face was contorted with pleasure and tension and effort and something else as he reached the peak.
He let out a loud bellow as he came—uninhibited, totally out of control—and he jerked his hips a long time as he worked through the spasms of his release.
It took him longer to come down than normal, and I stroked his hair and back as he did, feeling so strange, so helpless, so confused.
When his muscles finally relaxed and his expression softened, he rolled off me with a long groan.
I carefully untangled myself and straightened my legs.
They hurt. All of me hurt.
And all of me felt good at the same time.
I had to lie still for a minute before I was able to stand up. I was completely naked and stiff and sore, and I gasped when my back caught as I rose.
“Oka
y?” Sean asked, opening his eyes at the sound I made.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I was pleased that I sounded almost normal. “You want me to take care of that?” I gestured to indicate the condom he was still holding.
He nodded and I took it from him, throwing it away in the bathroom.
I had no idea what to do or say, so I was pleased when I thought of a reasonable activity. I grabbed my bag and told him, “I’m going to take a shower.”
He nodded, acknowledging my words. He still hadn’t moved from where he was sprawled out. It was like he’d collapsed at the release of tension.
I gave him one last look before I went into the bathroom.
I closed the door and stood there for a long time, thinking.
Sean hadn’t smiled. Not once since he’d opened the door for me.
And that sex had been amazing, but it had also been...
Something was wrong with him, and I didn’t know what.
I turned on the shower, waited for the water to get hot, and then stepped under the spray. I stayed in the shower for a long time, letting the hot water clean and then soothe me.
But I was thinking the whole time, and when I finally got out, I had an idea.
With a towel wrapped around me, I reached for my phone from my bag. I pulled up a browser and entered a few words.
Then I read the first news article that was brought up, looking specifically for the date.
I’d been right.
The idea that had come to me in the shower had been correct, and I now understood what was wrong with Sean, what explained everything about how he was behaving tonight.
Tonight was the anniversary of his fiancée’s death.
Two years ago tonight, she’d been shot on a downtown sidewalk as they’d been walking home. He’d been shot too.
Tonight was the night.
No wonder he was acting like he was hiding a wound.
My throat hurt so much I could barely breathe, and I had no idea what to do about what I’d just discovered. Instead of putting on the pretty pajama set I’d brought with me, I put on a bathrobe.
My clothes were still on the floor of the bedroom.
When I came out, Sean was still sprawled out on the bed. He hadn’t moved at all.
“Are you all right?” I asked softly.
He opened his eyes. “Yeah.”
I stared at him for a minute, and then I made up my mind. I reached down for my panties and then looked until I found my bra on the side of the bed.
Evidently, this caught his attention. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting dressed,” I murmured. “I’m going to leave.”
He shouldn’t have to try to act normal and entertain me tonight. He shouldn’t have to hide what he was feeling. He needed to grieve. I was going to let him do that.
This made him sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. “What? Why?”
I met his eyes. Hesitated.
Something new twisted on his face. “Did I... hurt you? Did I hurt you before?”
“No. No. Not at all.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
I sighed. “I know what tonight is, Sean. I’m going to leave so you can be alone.”
His expression changed again as he processed this. And I was reaching for my trousers near his feet when I felt his hand on my arm.
I looked over at him, waiting for him to speak.
“Don’t leave,” he rasped at last.
My heart jumped very strangely. “But, Sean, you shouldn’t have to worry about socializing with me tonight. I think it would be better if—”
“I want you to stay.” The words seemed torn out of him. “Don’t leave.”
I let out a breath, blowing out tension I hadn’t known was making my body tight. Then I sat on the edge of the bed beside him. “Okay.”
He’d turned his head to study my expression. “I didn’t hurt you? I know I was... I felt like I might have been rough.”
“No! Sean, of course not. I would have told you if you’d been hurting me. I... It was really good for me.” I sighed. “I really liked it.”
“Okay.”
We sat in silence for a full minute. Then I reached over and put my hand on his knee. “I’m really sorry about Lara,” I murmured, my voice breaking on the last word.
I wasn’t looking at his face, so I don’t know what his expression reflected. But his voice was as soft as mine had been when he said, “Thank you.”
WE DIDN’T EAT STEAK that evening.
The restaurant downstairs had a specialty of lobster pasta in a wine cream sauce, so we both ordered that. It just felt like a night to do something different.
After he’d called down our order, Sean went to take a shower. He was in there much longer than normal. In fact, the shower had just turned off when I heard the knock on the door. I went to let our room service in and sign the bill (hoping I’d left the size tip that Sean would have done since this was being charged to him), and the courteous server was just leaving when the bathroom door finally opened.
Sean came out with wet hair, wearing the same kind of sleep pants he’d always worn—a solid color in a soft material. His chest and feet were bare.
I didn’t know what to say as he paused in the middle of the floor, so I finally just gestured toward the table where the server had left the tray. “You hungry?”
“Yeah.”
I poured myself another glass of wine and topped off Sean’s half-empty one. I felt nervous, strangely jittery, as I stared down at the plate.
It looked delicious.
I had no idea what I should say.
To distract myself, I sipped my wine. “I think I’m getting spoiled with this wine,” I said at last.
Sean had just taken a bite, so he swallowed before he replied. “Spoiled?”
“Yeah. I used to just drink whatever someone gave me, but ever since I’ve been drinking the wine you have here...” I shook my head and smiled down at my glass. “I was at a friend’s house over the weekend, and she had a bottle of merlot. It was regular grocery store wine—not the bottom shelf but probably no more than fifteen dollars for the bottle. The kind I used to always drink. And I...”
“Could tell the difference?” he prompted. For the first time all night, he gave a hint of his normal smile.
I chuckled. “Yeah. I could. It’s a very strange thing to happen to me. I’ve never cared about wine at all.”
He’d relaxed a little as I talked, and I realized he wanted the distraction. It wouldn’t be insensitive for me to talk about light, easy things as we ate. In fact, it might be exactly what he needed.
So I kept talking. Not incessantly but enough to fill the silences between us. I told him a couple of stories about clients I’d met within the past week. I told him about new developments with my sister’s wedding. She’d found out she was pregnant, and she wanted to move up the date for the wedding so she wouldn’t be showing when she got married. So all their ambitious wedding plans were being condensed to less than three months, which to me seemed like a recipe for disaster.
Sean drank all his wine and poured himself another glass. Then he finished his lobster and pasta.
He didn’t add a lot to the conversation, but his eyes were on me and he responded enough to sustain the conversation.
He looked a lot better when we were finished, and I was foolishly proud of myself for helping him—even in such a small way.
“That was really good,” I said when I took my last bite. I hadn’t finished everything, but I’d done pretty well for myself. “I don’t even regret not getting the steak.”
“Yeah. Me either.” He swallowed the last of his wine. He’d had almost three glasses, which was twice as much as he normally drank.
I didn’t blame him for wanting to dull his senses a bit tonight though. I would have done the same thing.
We sat and stared at each other across the table for another minute. Then I had to break the tension I
could feel building again in the air. With a smile, I got up and went to use the bathroom.
I didn’t really have to go. I just wanted to do something.
When I came out again, Sean had gotten up from the table and moved to stretch out on the bed, his head turned away from me so he could look out the window.
I crawled onto the bed beside him. I wanted to touch him, stroke him, since he seemed sad again, but I didn’t think it was my place.
When I straightened my legs, I felt a twinge of soreness and sucked in a quick breath.
Sean turned to look. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just a little sore. From before.” I paused, then had to admit the truth. “That might be all the sex I’m up for tonight.”
He nodded. Didn’t look surprised or disappointed. “You would have told me if it was too much for you?” His eyes were very sober.
My lips parted at the question. “Of course. Of course I would have told you. I’m not the kind of girl to suffer in silence.”
He gave another little hint of a smile, so I felt better.
“And I don’t let guys do things to me that I don’t want,” I added.
He nodded and murmured, “Good.”
He was such a decent guy. Even wounded and grieving tonight, he still worried about me. And I knew he meant it when he’d said it was good I wouldn’t let a guy do something to me I didn’t want.
Some guys wouldn’t even think to ask. Some guys were too focused on putting their dicks wherever they wanted them, no matter what the other person needed.
Sean wasn’t like that. At all.
“So any new developments with the jackass?” he asked after a minute.
He asked me about John every time we got together. I’d always thought it was because he liked to tease me—and I was still sure he did—but he wasn’t in a teasing mood now. That meant he must genuinely be interested.
“Well, uh, not really, I guess.”
His mouth turned down slightly. “What does that mean?”
“It just means that nothing significant has really happened, although he’s talking to me more now than he ever did before.”
“But he hasn’t asked you out?” I couldn’t understand the expression in his eyes when he voiced the question.
