by Katy Regnery
“You’re good for my ego.”
He sits down at my kitchen table and takes off his academy baseball cap, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I’ve been meaning to ask: What happened with your ex?”
“Bryce?” I scoff, wiping my finger on a paper towel. “Nothing good.”
“How about the CliffsNotes version?”
“Rrrrgh. Okay. We...met while I was doing a story on local cuisine. Bryce was the sous chef at a French restaurant. We started dating, moved in together...stayed that way for about five years. And then...”
“Then?”
I take the pudding off the stove and put the saucepan in the sink to cool down for a few seconds before pouring it into the crust.
“And then he cheated on me with our friendly neighborhood bartender.”
“Oh, man.” Luke scrubs his hands over his face, his expression pained. “What an asshole.”
“Yeah.” I sigh, nodding in agreement. “It sucked.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m ...not,” I say, the word surprising me. I chuckle softly, leaning back against the counter. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry he cheated, and I’m not sorry it’s over. It should have been over a long time ago.”
“You didn’t love him?”
I bite my bottom lip, thinking this over. “I don’t know. I don’t...think so. I mean, we were together for a long time. Bryce was a fact in my life. My instadate, my roommate, my companion...I think we started out in love...or at least in serious like. I fell out of love with him at some point, but I guess I just figured that was how things went. Like, maybe it wasn’t passionate and soul stirring, but it was comfortable, and we’d been together for years, and...I don’t know. I guess I just thought it was enough.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No,” I say, pouring the pudding into the crust and smoothing it over with a knife-edge. “It wasn’t.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Not much. I miss being part of a couple. I miss being with someone. But Bryce? No, I don’t miss him.” I rip off a piece of plastic wrap and cover the pie before slipping it into the refrigerator. Luke’s looking at me when I turn around, but I’m relieved to see there’s no judgment on his face or in his eyes. It gives me the courage to keep talking, to be honest about what I’m thinking. “That’s sort of pathetic, huh? To stay with someone for five years only to realize you’re not in love with them anymore and don’t miss them when they’re gone?”
“Forty-five would be a lot more pathetic,” says Luke. “Whenever I meet a couple who’s stayed together for the wrong reasons, it always makes me sad.”
I nod at him, hoping he’ll say more.
“I think it’s good you got out when you did. I mean, you could’ve married him, had kids with him, spent your life with him...that would have been far worse.”
“Yeah,” I say. His words comfort me, and I’m grateful for them. They make me wonder about him too. “How about you?” I ask. “Do you miss Wendy?”
“Sure I do. Every day. She was taken from me, you know? There’s shock and then there’s loss. I’ve had to deal with both.”
“I guess it’ll be a long time before you don’t miss her anymore, huh?”
“I’ll always miss her,” he says softly, holding my eyes with his.
I don’t know why my heart tightens when he says this, but it does. It pinches inside of my chest, and I turn back to the sink and wash my hands, trying to assuage the ache.
Back to cheap and meaningless sex today?
Leigh’s question slips into my head. She’s right, of course. Cheap and meaningless sex doesn’t lead to heartache. Conversation and sharing does that. Probably best to stick with our original agreement and keep deep thoughts out of it.
I turn around and cross the kitchen, bracing my hands on his shoulders before sliding them over his chest as my knees hit the floor. My hands land on his thighs, and my fingers work soundlessly to unbuckle his belt and pull down his fly. Without looking at his face, I reach into the waistband of his boxer briefs and take out his semierect cock. Slipping my lips over the head, I tongue the warm, soft skin, suckling gently as one of my hands works the base with circular, up-and-down strokes.
Luke groans, leaning up on the chair to push his pants down, which frees his balls for my other hand. I handle them with care, massaging them while I lick and suck his erection. I moan frequently because I read somewhere that the vibrations from moaning make a blow job extra awesome and because I want him to know that I’m enjoying this too.
I feel his hands touch down on my head, his fingers winding into my hair, fisting it around his hand and pulling. He tests me at first, to see if this is something I will tolerate, and I suck a little harder, a little faster, to let him know that it turns me on.
“Oh, fuuuuuuck,” he hisses, his breath quickly becoming more shallow and rapid as he pulls harder, making me groan. “That feels—God, Amanda, that feels so...”
I open wide and take him as deep as I can without gagging, reveling in the feeling of power I have as I feel his balls tighten in my hand and his cock starts to quiver against my tongue. When he comes a second later, I swallow as hot streams of cum sail down my throat in three or four powerful surges.
I wait until his groans of pleasure subside, gently stroking his cock with my tongue before leaning away and looking up at him from my subservient position on the kitchen floor.
“You’re a goddess,” he breathes, his eyes searching mine with a hint of worship as he cups my jaw. “It’s been a long time since...Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How can I return the favor?”
Because I’ve been shopping and baking this morning, I haven’t had time to shower, so a direct return of the favor isn’t high on my list right now. It makes me self-conscious for a guy to go down on me if I’m not fresh. Next best thing would be...
“Fuck me,” I whisper, bracing my hands on his bare knees and standing up. I pull off my dress and shimmy out of my panties and bra so I’m naked before him.
“Gladly,” he says, pulling his work shirt and T-shirt over his head so he’s as naked as I am. “How?”
“What do you mean?”
“How do you want me to fuck you?”
My breath catches because it sounds so dirty.
“From behind,” I say, choosing the position I find the most impersonal and yet the most satisfying. “Doggie style.”
His eyes flare with heat. Apparently, this is something Luke likes too.
“Where?” he asks, his voice a gravelly grunt.
“The couch.”
He stands up and takes my hand, leading me to the living room.
I climb onto the couch, positioning myself on all fours with my breasts hanging down and my hands braced on an armrest. Anticipation is part of the thrill as he climbs onto the cushion behind me. It’s cool in my apartment, and my nipples pucker as the couch depresses a little. His hands land on my lower back, resting for a moment before one slides slowly over my ass and hooks beneath to find my clit. It’s soaked and throbbing, slick and pulsing, and he rubs it gently with two fingers, round and round, as his other hand reaches under me to fondle my breasts. He pinches and tweaks, massages and rubs. Soon, I’m writhing against him, my panted breath shallow as my ass grinds against his balls.
“You want me?” he asks, leaning over my back, his breath tickling my ear.
“Yes,” I answer, dropping my forehead onto the armrest to give him perfect, unhampered access to my sex.
“I want you too,” he says, sliding inside of me in one, smooth thrust, the tip of his cock touching the tip of my cervix and filling me so completely, it feels like no man has ever come before or could satisfy me after.
The walls of my pussy clench fiercely, clutching onto him, inviting his intrusion, and clamoring for more when he pulls back only to surge forward once again. His hands clamp down on my
hips, and I close my eyes, savoring the feeling of his body using mine, smacking into mine, the friction of his penis rubbing the walls of my vagina. The crescendo of sensations builds, grows, crests...until I convulse around him in frantic contractions, milking his cum as he cries out my name—Amanda!—then falls to his side, shifting me with him.
He is still intimately connected to me as we spoon on my couch, as tears that I can’t explain fill my eyes, and I realize that the best sex of my entire life is with a partner I only have in my life for seven more days.
***
Luke
“She’s good for you,” my sister insists. “That’s all I’m saying.”
It’s Wednesday night, and we’re at Bonnie and Ted’s house. The twins are already in bed, and my kids are building a fire for s’mores in the back yard ring, so it’ll be ready after dinner. Ted should be home from work at any second to get the grill started, and at six o’clock, Amanda will be ringing the doorbell.
Amanda.
Damn, but that woman is quickly becoming an addiction for me.
For three days in a row, I’ve spent my lunch break having sex with her, and I’m starting to think it’s going to be really depressing the first day I show up at her apartment only to discover she’s gone back to Seattle.
“It’s only temporary,” I remind Bonnie.
“Temporary,” my sister scoffs. “You weren’t looking at her on Monday night like what you’ve got is temporary.”
“But it is. Not to mention, it’s already Wednesday. She goes back to Seattle next week.”
“And how far is Seattle? Last I checked, it was only a two-hour flight.”
“And costs anywhere from two to four hundred dollars per trip.”
She huffs softly as she shapes a mound of ground beef into patties. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
I shake my head, taking a cold beer out of the fridge. “It’s a fling, Bonnie. It’s just...a fling. We agreed.”
“So agree on something else.”
“What’s the point? We live in different states, and we barely know each other.”
“Spend more time together. Get to know each other.” She grins at me. “The girls adore her.”
I roll my eyes. I love my sister, but man, she is exasperating. “They know her less than I do!”
“Fine,” she says, shrugging with annoyance. “Stay single the rest of your life. Make your whole life a shrine to Wendy.”
Does my soft gasp clue her into the fact that she’s gone a little too far? I think it probably does.
“Shoot,” she says, turning away from the counter to look at me. “I’m sorry, Luke. That was...a low blow. I’m sorry. I just...I want you to be happy.”
I wave away her apology because I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. “I don’t want to be single for the rest of my life, but Amanda’s just...not the girl for me. She’s not from here. She’s got a career and life somewhere else. And really, Bon, I really don’t know her at all. We might not even be compatible.”
“I’m fairly certain that some things are already compatible,” she says, giving me a look.
And damn it but my cheeks flush. “A gentleman doesn’t talk about things like that.”
“Not asking you to. Just saying...she’s good for you. That’s all.”
The doorbell rings, releasing me from the most awkward conversation of my life, and I hurry from the kitchen, through the dining room, to the front hallway, opening the door to find Amanda standing there. The pie she made on Monday afternoon is in one hand, and she holds a bottle of wine in the other.
“Hi,” she says, grinning at me.
“Hey,” I say, unable to keep myself from smiling back.
She’s good for you.
Hmm. I can’t deny the way I feel around her—like the whole world is more exciting, more colorful and fun. She makes me feel manly and strong, sexy and needed. I know this thing we’ve got is temporary, but feeling wanted again is going to be hard to let go of.
Happily, I don’t have to let go of it tonight.
My kids are outside, and my sister’s in the kitchen, so I lean down and press my lips to hers, loving the way it feels to touch her—the way my heart skips a beat and my stomach is invaded by an army of butterflies. It’s a high I could get used to, that’s for sure.
“I wasn’t sure what the rules are for tonight,” she says, opening her pretty eyes to look up at me. “Are we...?”
She leaves the question open ended, and honestly, I’m not totally sure what she’s asking me, but I think she’s wondering if we’re going to be kissing and touching in front of my family.
“Probably best not to,” I say, taking the pie and wine from her. “But I couldn’t resist stealing a kiss.”
“I gave it,” she says with a sweet smile. “No larceny involved, Officer.”
She’s cute and smart, and damn, but the way this woman looks when I’m making her come? It’s almost enough to make me look into becoming a frequent flier on Alaska Airlines. Almost. If that’s what she wanted too. Which she doesn’t. Which makes it a nonpoint.
Gah, Luke! Get out of your own head, man!
“Everything okay?” she asks, eyeing my expression.
“Yeah,” I say. “Definitely. Um...how was the rest of your day?”
“Good...but having lunch with you was the highlight,” she whispers before heading into the kitchen to say hello to my sister.
I watch her go, goose bumps rising up on my arms, because today was the first time she was comfortable enough with me to spread her legs and allow me to pleasure her with my lips and tongue. Her skin was fevered and quivering by the time she bucked against my mouth, her fingernails digging into my scalp as her head thrashed against the pillow. Fuck, but I’m desperate to taste her again.
Following her into the kitchen, I give Bonnie the wine and pie, then leave the ladies alone to chat while I check on the kids’ progress out back.
Chad has everything under control: a nice layer of tinder and kindling under a teepee of larger sticks and logs. I’ve taught my son how to survive in the wild, and he’s been a good student.
“Nice fire, Chad.”
“Thanks, Dad,” he mumbles, staring at it but not at me.
“Everything okay, champ?”
Gillian speaks in a rush from where she sits across the campfire ring. “Chad went in to get matches and saw you kissing Miss Amanda!”
“Are you gonna marry her, Daddy?” asks Meghan, sidling onto my lap.
“What? N-No!” I say. “I just met her. We’re just—you know, getting to know each other. It’s very new.”
“Well, I like her,” says Meghan, nestling against my shoulder. “You can marry her if you want.”
“Hold up, Megs,” says Gilly, furrowing her eyebrows. “She seems nice, but—”
“We don’t need a new mom!” says Chad. He looks up at me, and for the first time, I can see that his eyes are full of tears. He swipes at them, then looks back at the fire pit. “We’re good without her. We don’t want—I mean...we’ve got Aunt Bonnie. And I can help more, Dad. If you need me to cook more or help clean, I can do that. We don’t need someone else to—”
“Son...” I say, reaching over to put my arm around his shoulders and gesturing for Gilly to come sit on my other side. “Guys, listen up, okay? Amanda’s just a friend. Just a new friend. She’s not even from Alaska. She’s just visiting.”
“Good,” Chad says, his voice shaky as he kicks at the dirt with his sneaker.
I didn’t see this coming. I mean, I guess I should have, since Amanda is the first woman, since their mother, in whom I’ve been remotely interested. They’re picking up on that, and it’s upsetting them, and damn, but after everything they’ve been through, they don’t need more stress.
“Someday,” I say gently, “I might meet someone, date her for a few years, get closer to her, and sure, I might get married again. But someday. Not now. Not tomorrow. And not to Amanda. She’s...s
he’s just a friend.”
“You don’t kiss your friends on the lips,” Chad points out.
“That’s true,” I say. “You’re right. She’s...um, well, yes. She’s more than a friend. But she’s a long, long way from a fiancée. I wouldn’t even call her my girlfriend.”
“You kiss ladies who aren’t your girlfriend?” asks Gilly, staring up at me with wide eyes.
“N-No. I mean, well, I’m getting to know Miss Amanda, and we’re...well, we like each other, so we’re sort of dating right now. Going on dates. And when you go on dates with someone, sometimes you kiss them. Not that you should kiss anyone, Gilly, dates or no dates. You’re too young for kissing. Got it?”
Gillian giggles, and that’s when I realize she’s getting a kick of out of having me on the ropes, the little demon. “Oh, Daddy. You’re adorable.”
“I wish I could say the same about you!” I say, pretending to be offended as I squeeze her shoulder with affection. “So are we okay? Any more questions?”
They shake their heads no, and they look reassured, but as I head back inside to help Bonnie, I can’t help thinking that there are layers to my dating Amanda—or any woman—that I hadn’t really anticipated. What if my kids don’t like the woman I choose? What if I like her, but she doesn’t mesh with my family? It could get really complicated really quickly.
Luckily, however, dinner goes off without a hitch, and a few hours later, my kids, full of burgers and s’mores, are half asleep in front of my sister’s TV. I offer to walk Amanda home and promise Bonnie I’ll return for them in an hour.
“Don’t rush,” whispers my sister. “They can stay over if you run late. Have fun!”
My sister and Amanda had a great time together tonight, laughing and talking over dinner. And later, over the campfire, Amanda joined us in singing some of our favorite camp songs, which she, apparently, learned at a summer camp she attended in Pennsylvania.
As we roasted marshmallows, Meghan climbed into Amanda’s lap. Without missing a beat, Amanda wrapped her arms around my youngest, giggling as they sang an off-tune but enthusiastic version of “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.”
Part of me loved seeing them together.
