by L. B. Dunbar
We stood and followed a series of stretching and twisting and balancing, until finally, we leaned forward, bracing palms flat on the ground, shoulder width apart, while our feet separated, forming an equilibrium of arms and legs, with backsides in the air. The downward dog position. My head lowered to center between my elbows and I had a perfect view of the walking path behind me when I should have been concentrating on my form.
A man in dark shorts and a sweat-laden white T-shirt walked slowly on the wooden path, one hand on his hips, his barrel chest rising and falling with exertion, as if he was winding down a long run. With earbuds in his ears, his fingers scrolled over a phone. He paced a step or two before stopping and facing our direction. I became acutely aware that my ass was in the air, pointed at him. I couldn’t see far enough to know if he saw me, but heat rose up my chest. My arms shook, and my hamstrings ached as the instructor told us to press backward. I noticed the man begin to walk forward toward our yoga haven.
“Oh no,” I muttered.
He’s not looking at me, I argued with myself, but Tommy—yes, of course it was him—stalked straight for the collection of yoga participants. Always preferring the back of anything—a classroom, a theatre, a bus—I was at the back of this group, and when he stopped short at my side, it was obvious he recognized me.
“Uncle Tommy,” Ivy hissed, clearly annoyed at his intrusion but keeping her focus on her position.
He dropped down to the standard form for downward dog, making it look effortless as he bent forward and stretched out next to me.
“Didn’t take you for a yoga expert, darlin’,” he greeted me.
“How would you know?” I quietly snapped, leaning forward to support myself. He chuckled.
“Always a question.”
“So, you’re Ivy’s uncle,” I interjected, ignoring the jab. My legs shook. My arms ached. I couldn’t concentrate.
“Yeah, she’s my niece.” His voice softened, the gruff smoky sound lighter, drifting, like the thought saddened him. I ignored the fact he basically repeated what I just said and swung my head so I could look at Ivy on my left before rotating back to Tommy on my right. I noticed no resemblance between them.
“Back to yoga. Do you do this often?” he asked, a teasing curiosity in his tone as his mouth twitched while he spoke. His head was turned to look at me behind his elbows. He was breaking form.
“First time for everything,” I mocked, and felt my face redden. Last night had certainly been a first.
The curl of his lips told me he knew where my thoughts were—in a dark ballroom, with his fingers…Oh goodness, I couldn’t think of that, flinching as moisture seeped between my legs in this awkward position.
“You’re breaking form,” he said, noting my thighs that momentarily pressed together. My knees bent.
“I can’t do this with you watching me,” I snapped, humiliated at being caught thinking of him and stretching my body in such a way it brought on lurid, luscious thoughts of him doing things to me. My face reddened further, possibly even purpled. I was nearly suffocating with dirty thoughts of Tommy.
“What happened, darlin’?” he teased, the question reminiscent of my momentary freak out from the night before when he reached for my breasts. The reminder forced my eyes to my cleavage, blatantly on display as the leaning position lowered my top, accentuating the curve of my breasts. I’d had them restored to my 36Ds as best I could after the surgery.
Go away, I wanted to mutter at the same time my brain cried, Take me. I was ridiculous.
“I just can’t do this with you staring at me,” I said, peeking around my elbow at him.
“Why not?”
“Because…” I’m self-conscious enough as it is, I wanted to add, but the instructor’s mic crackled.
“Lady in red,” the instructor said. “You’re breaking form, honey. Straighten the legs. Tuck in your abs. Accentuate the backside.”
My elbows snapped, nearly collapsing me, and I wanted to bang my head on the ground. She was speaking to me. Tommy chuckled beside me.
“Okay, I’ll leave you to your struggles. But you know what seems better than this position, darlin’?”
I was afraid to ask. “What?” I grumbled.
“Bacon and eggs with me.” My head swung to face him. He’d folded down to his knees, looked at his phone, and spoke to it as he addressed me.
“I’m not done here.”
“I know where you can finish your work-out.”
“No,” I said, but my body screamed yes.
“Room 413. Half an hour.” He rolled up on his toes and stood as if unfolding an accordion. His eyes met mine as I remained in my awkward position. Dark orbs flicked to my raised backside.
“No,” I repeated, but he smiled slowly and walked away.
+ + +
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I hadn’t even waited fifteen minutes. My concentration was completely lost. I folded back on my ankles, excused myself from Ivy and Masie, and headed for the lobby. I told myself, I would knock on his door, and he wouldn’t be there because I was early. Then I told myself, I was stupid because I was early. It made me look desperate. Then I internally argued, I was being ridiculous, and making up the whole thing; he never invited me to his room for breakfast. So, I knocked once, waited, and then spun for the elevator. Defeat filled me instantly even though I’d been self-deprecating anyway.
I hadn’t taken one full step when the door flung open. Eyes appraised me as I stood in my make-shift yoga get-up. I hadn’t bothered to shower or change. I figured he could take me as I was. I meant, take me for how I was dressed. I…oh, forget it, I cursed myself.
“Edie,” he said, eyes roaming back up my body. “I’m glad you’re early. I’m starving.” Did I imagine his teeth snap on that second sentence? Could I believe I was about to enter a strange man’s resort room? As I stepped forward, I realized Tommy didn’t feel like a stranger. I didn’t have thoughts of him being an ax-murderer or something extreme. He managed a group of young men, whom I imagined could be unruly. His niece was part of that mix, and I’d seen him react to her daughters on our first meeting. This man was…a man…not a killer. My heart raced, nonetheless.
Then I noticed his attire. He stood before me dressed only in a towel.
“I couldn’t concentrate,” I replied, my eyes wandering over the firmness of his body. Abs. Pecs. Biceps. Oh my.
He nodded slowly, noting my appraisal. “I can help with that concentration.”
“I can come back later,” I stressed, my voice squeaking as I pointed over my shoulder for the elevator, but my eyes refused to pull away from the trail of hair leading above the curl of the towel wrapped low around his waist. Mother of all things holy.
“Breakfast is coming,” he said, reaching out for my arm and tugging me into his room.
Breakfast, my mouth watered. Coming, my throat swallowed. Oh goodness, I was a mess.
I walked forward on stumbling feet. His room was a king-size suite. The large bed was the focus, but a couch with a small dining table for two also filled the room. It was a breezy space for one. The balcony door brightened the room, as the curtain was drawn wide, and the glass door stood open allowing in the subtle resort sounds and the whistling winds.
He stood behind me, his presence emitting the heat of a shower. I took a deep breath, preparing to speak, when he spoke instead.
“Didn’t finish your workout?” He paused. “I can help with that, too.” Thick hands came to my hips and his breath tickled my neck. Instantly, I tilted, allowing him access to my skin. What was I doing? I wondered only momentarily as my body started to tingle with his nearness and the flutters in my lower belly took flight like a flock of seagulls. “I didn’t take you for a yoga girl. We need to talk about your form, Edie.”
“You seem to have a check list of things you don’t take me for,” I said, not recognizing my own voice. “What do you take me for, then?”
He huffed against my neck, kissing me in
a place I noticed this morning had a tender mark of broken skin. He’d given me a hickey. Not a full-fledged bruise, but enough of a purple scratch to mark me. I had a hard time explaining it to Masie, who eyed it suspiciously as we walked to yoga.
“I think something bit me,” I said, “and I reacted to it.” It was almost too close to the truth.
“Hmmm…” He hummed against my skin, and it prickled in anticipation of his lips meeting mine, which hadn’t happened yet. He simply teased me with his closeness. “I’m not sure how to take you yet.” His voice purred with the double entendre.
Thick hands caressed up and down my sides, curving over my hips and tugging up the skirt on my skort.
“Now, what the fuck is this?” He chuckled, and I should have been embarrassed, but I had to laugh. If I was getting an education in stranger sex, he was getting one in older women’s apparel.
“It’s a skort. It’s like a skirt over shorts.”
“What the fuck?” he repeated, lifting it higher as he stepped back to appraise the contraption. I swatted at his hand, laughing as he peeked under the skirting, trying to find an opening. “Take it off,” he demanded.
“What?” I choked.
“Take. It. Off,” he repeated slower, lower, as if I couldn’t understand basic English.
“Why?”
“Always a question,” he muttered, shaking his head. He crossed his thick arms over his bare chest. He hadn’t bothered to dress or even suggest it. There was something in the way he looked at me. Something in the way his arms stiffened over his chest and his widened stance that pissed me off just enough to do as he said. I forced my skort down, kicked out of my tennis shoes and stood before him in low-cut purple panties. His eyes widened, and I tugged at the hem of Masie’s tank top. In the light of day, the slight bulge of my stomach rested over the waist of my underwear. I was pear-shaped at best, but the underwear dissected me in the wrong places. Maybe I needed to rethink trying to be a tough bitch in response to him. I wasn’t one of those women, anyway.
My fingers folded into the thin material and I began to stretch it toward my thighs. Tommy stepped forward so quickly he startled me, and I bumped into his bed. His hand cupped my face to stop me from tumbling, and he kissed me. The full onslaught again, but this time I was better prepared for the intensity. His mouth opened immediately, and I followed his lead, loving the confidence he expressed in kissing. His plump lips were assured, experienced, and surprisingly tender. He sucked and sipped and slipped his tongue across the seam, taking me to another level. He tipped my head, and our tongues tangled deeper, stretching for connection. He swept the inside of my mouth before drawing back.
“We need to work on your technique,” he said, and I thought he meant my kissing, but he spun me to face the bed, and I pitched forward. “Your downward dog could use practice.”
Oh, Lord.
“I didn’t know you were a yoga aficionado,” I said, though the statement was breathy.
“I have many skills,” he said, guiding my upper back to lower to the bed. “Stretch your arms forward.” I did as he said. My backside raised in the air. My arms flattened on the bed cover, and he stroked up and down my spine, rubbing a line down the bone before massaging my sides. Then he pressed forward, the stiff length of him meeting me square between the cheeks of my ass.
“I seem to have developed a problem when it comes to you, Edie,” he said, his typical puddle-plopping sound dropping to a handful of gravel dumped into water. “I can’t seem to figure you out.” His thick hands continued to caress up my sides, while tugging me gently backward, forcing my backside to meet his hard length in short, steady beats. If I wasn’t so turned on, it might be reminiscent of a bad comedy movie. The rhythm continued, like a quick puff of air. Uhn. Huh. Uhn. Huh.
“Ever have sex like this, Edie?” The crass question should have given me pause, but my mind was fogging on the rhythm he set, the pulsing of my core, and the liquid pooling at the apex of my thighs. I was wet, and the damp material of his towel aided the moisture forming on my cotton underwear.
“Rarely,” I stammered, not wishing to recall the few times David and I mixed up our sexual encounters. My response elicited the sound of a towel unravelling and the wet fabric hitting the floor. Bare skin hit the back of my thighs as he returned to his steady hammering. A tap. A tap. A tap.
I was coming undone, the fiber of my being beginning to unravel. The flutters in my belly had progressed from the flock of seagulls to a storm of flapping birds. My fingers gripped the duvet.
“This will be a better work out,” he groaned before saying my name. I didn’t know if my name was a question or a statement, but all I could answer was, “Yes.” My underwear slid to my knees, and I pressed inward, forcing them to my ankles. His foot held them down and he tapped my heel to step out of one side. His fingers caressed over the cool globes of my backside and I couldn’t believe I was about to do this. I also couldn’t imagine stopping. I was so wound up, I was ready to snap. Tears welled in my eyes. I wanted this so badly I ached.
The nightstand drawer opened, and I heard the rip of foil. I almost laughed. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in nearly twenty years. How did I get here? How did I get in this position?
All thought escaped me when a thick finger slipped inside me, and I gasped.
“Fine wine,” he muttered, before removing his finger, and I whimpered. “Ready to breathe again, Edie?” I rolled my head against the bed cover. I didn’t have the breath to speak, afraid I’d crack if he didn’t enter me.
“I need the word, darlin’.”
“Yes,” I exhaled, and he slammed into me so hard I pressed forward on the mattress. I yelped, and he stilled. His hands rubbed down my spine, steadying me before drawing my hips backward. He filled me so deep the sac of his balls pressed against my entrance. A strange sense of completion rippled through me, as if I’d never had sex before, and I practically cried at that thought. It hadn’t ever been like this.
He slid to my entrance as he had the night before with his fingers, but I clenched my thighs, attempting to hold him in. Thrusting forward, he chuckled.
“I like how you’re a little greedy even though you want to deny it, Edie.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder blade before repeating the near exit, only to fill me almost instantly. The pace increased, the sound of slapping skin becoming a metronome of music. He pressed at the inside of my thigh, forcing my knee to rise from the bed. The position opened me up.
“You’re breaking my form,” I tried to joke, but his deep thrust cut off the words.
“I’m hoping to break many things,” he muttered, and my heart pinched in my chest, because I knew Tommy Carrigan was going to break not just my heart, but all of me.
His fingers slipped to the spot I needed, paying attention as he stroked and parted and circled while he entered me. I screamed into the duvet as I came and felt a second wave instantly as he pulsed his release. The jolt of him, stiff and vibrating deep inside me, set off subtle aftershocks but not enough to cause an eruption.
“Sorry, darlin’,” he said, as his forehead came to my back. “I sensed you needed another minute to get there again, but I couldn’t hold on any longer.” His forehead rolled back and forth on my damp skin. “What are you doing to me?” he muttered before pressing a quick kiss to my back and standing. He pulled out of me slowly and moisture seeped down my thigh, but I collapsed on the bed. I just need a minute, I thought, closing my eyes.
I heard him step away and return with a towel. He startled me as he wiped between my thighs. Then he stretched behind me. We lay sideways across the bed. His chest hit my back and an arm curled over my waist.
“Feel good, darlin’?” he murmured to the skin on my neck.
“Just need a minute,” I said, my voice drifting. He chuckled and that’s the only sound I heard before I slipped into sleep.
+ + +
It didn’t feel like enough time passed before a knock came to the door. I jolted upright,
wondering only briefly where I was and why I was still partially naked. However, I was covered by the duvet, and a pillow had been placed under my head. A resort server entered the room and set a large tray on the table. He smiled down at me and I rolled to cover my face as he walked out of sight. I didn’t want to think about how many times he entered this room to find a woman in this bed. The subtle click of the door set me upright. Scooting for the edge of the bed, I found my underwear and skort right where they landed on the floor. Further embarrassment set in, and heat colored my cheeks.
“Hungry, darlin’?” Tommy asked, reentering my view, now dressed in jeans without a shirt.
“I should go.” My voice rasped from sleep, and I searched for a clock. “What time is it?”
“You only slept a half-hour.” I reached for my scarf to find my hair. Somewhere, it had slipped off my head. “You look beautiful,” he said, and my eyes lowered. I couldn’t look at him when he complimented me.
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” I offered, ignoring his kind words. I remained at the edge of the bed, and he stepped forward, cupping my chin. His eyes examined my face before he spoke. “Breakfast is ready.”
I followed him over to the small table and sat while he removed metal lids for two plates. Scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, and fruit. I inhaled. “Smells delicious. Thank you.”
The gratitude surprised him, and he paused mid-air with the coffee carafe in his hand. I waved him off from pouring me a cup.
“I don’t like the flavor.”
“Huh, another thing I didn’t have you pegged for.” I noted the tease in his voice.
“How poorly you’ve perceived me so far,” I countered. He sat and stared at me a moment.
“Yes, I think I have.” I didn’t know what to make of that statement. If I thought there was a compliment in there, I couldn’t find it.
