by L. B. Dunbar
“Were you hoping to dance with someone, then go home with him?” His voice roughened, accusatory.
“No,” I hissed. The attention of his fingers rough, yet welcome. After several deep strokes, my underwear was removed.
“Are we really doing this here?” I gasped, looking up briefly at the dark windows, where condensation formed from the heat of our breaths in a warm van.
“Yes.”
The sound of his buckle clicking open filled the back seat. A slight jumble of his clothes and the warm length of him dragged through cool globes. I stilled instinctively.
“Uhm…I…uhm…” My hands gripped the seat belt, if only for something to hold onto.
“You’ve never done it this way?” he asked sultry and deep as he continued to caress my seam with his hard length.
“I…I have in this position…just…not…there.” I sounded like an inexperienced imbecile, but then again I was. I read books. Too many books, and I knew this was a popular style. Men apparently did want to go in the back door. I just hadn’t ever experienced that position and I wasn’t certain doing it for the first time in the back of my mini-van was something I could handle.
“We won’t be doing that tonight,” he assured me, as if he read my mind. He paused, teasing his thick tip between my ass cheeks, before sliding further down my center. “That would take preparation and time we don’t have.” His voice lowered as a firm finger slid seductively close to my back entrance. He paused momentarily. The sharp rip of foil behind me could only be him sheathing on a condom.
“But I am going here,” he said with little warning, and slammed into me in just the right place. I cried out in awkward pleasure and a sharp dash of pain. He stilled and I took a deep breath.
“You okay?” he asked. Firm hands slid up my still-dressed back. Then one hand wove into my hair again while the other landed on my hip, warm and steady, while he waited for my answer.
“God…yes…” I exhaled. I curled back to draw him deeper. His rhythm increased instantly as he thrust forward over and over. The hand on my hip slipped around to that nub of pleasure that wept for friction. He gently tugged my hair while he rubbed sensitive folds and continued to impale me in a steady beat. On sensory overload, I worried I wouldn’t get to where I wanted to go.
“Relax, beautiful,” he grunted. “Let it happen. I’ll wait.”
I took a deep breath, encouraging myself into taking the pleasure. My hand tightened its grip on the seat belt. I might have pulled it from the seat. I thrust backward, forcing him deeper inside me as I practically sat on him. My legs spread wide over his thighs, exposing me, and I bounced up and down on the sharp length of him. Our skin slapped. The van shook. My toes curled in my shoes as a new sensation skittered up my legs. A guttural, animalistic sound escaped me and I rolled my hips, letting loose three days of pent up tension. The release washed out of me, intensifying my jungle cry as I rode Merek in a way I’d never done with anyone before. And then he came apart inside me. His hands stilled my hips, and the pulse rushed deep, giving me a euphoric high. My channel clenched, holding him in, responding of its own will to Merek filling me.
“You okay?” he asked, cautiously, his head resting between my shoulder blades as we both breathed heavily.
“I’m…yeah…I’m good.”
His head rose.
“Good? You can’t use good to describe that. It’s like using the word fine. It’s not allowed.” His tone teased despite the hint of seriousness.
“It was incredible,” I offered, smiling to myself.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered to my hair, and my smile deepened.
Who knew a fucking mini-van could be so hot? I typically didn’t do the vehicle thing. While I wasn’t too old for one night stands, I was too old for fumbling in a back seat. But when I saw the horrified expression on her face as I argued with Cassie, I had to make things right. I didn’t want to explain myself, or Cassie, but I also couldn’t let Emme leave without giving her something. This something in her backseat wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I would not complain.
When she left the other night, I was pissed. Even though, I’d argued with myself whether I wanted her to stay or go, I was irritated after she walked out. I understood she had kids. I’d been with women who had them before, and typically, it was a good reason not to spend the night. But I wanted Emme to stay. I argued that my decision was made only because she walked out. She’d gotten what she wanted from me, like most women. As I breathed in the summer sweet scent of her, mingled with the smell of us together, I knew it wasn’t true. Emme wasn’t selfishly taking from me. In fact, I wasn’t sure what she was doing to me, but I couldn’t let her leave the club without speaking to her.
I slid out of her, unfazed by the noise that escaped. Emme, however, was mortified.
“Oh my God. Was that me?” The car was dark, but I sensed her deep blush.
“It’s nothing. Just the friction release,” I clarified as I pulled off the condom, suppressing a chuckle. Some nights I was sick of these things, but it was for my own protection and that of my partner. Of course, Emme hadn’t been with another man in twenty years. I would wager it was safe to say she was clean.
Her retreat happened quickly. She scrambled to face me and quickly reached for her underwear that dangled off one ankle. She fumbled, hastily tugging it up under her skirt, before straightening the material to sit prim and proper. She shifted on the back seat where she now perched.
I was still on my knees before her, and I took a moment to observe her. Her reaction to Cassie surprised me. Was she jealous? If only she knew the truth. I suppressed the chuckle. Emme was different. Her body was a woman’s body. What we did just now might rival a twenty-year old and Emme proved she could handle it. She was more than a bang in the back of a truck. She was beautiful. Really beautiful. Her body showed signs of life that I wouldn’t find in someone younger. She had experience. She lived life; she didn’t just float from one night to another. I wanted to wrap up what she offered and take it with me. Bottle it and carry it in my pocket like a new drug. One whiff would restore me.
She caught me staring, so I struggled to right my pants.
“What do you have on?” She wore those sexy boy shorts again, and tonight’s pair was black. She smoothed down her already flat skirt and glanced at her knees.
“A dress.”
The seriousness of what she said made my laughter release. I rose up on my knees to adjust my belt buckle. When I sat back, she was staring at me.
“I’m so glad I amuse you.” Her tone sharp. I don’t know what made me do it, but I lunged forward, my mouth eager to crush hers. I stopped. An inch separated us and her gasp told me I surprised her. While that was my intention, I shocked myself. Her breath mingled with mine, and I wanted a taste of her. But I wouldn’t kiss her. That was my hard limit. My fine line. My breaking point. It was a weird fetish, but I had my reasons.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, and I swallowed hard.
“I…I can’t.” My attempts at love had bitten me hard and I hadn’t recovered. My eyes averted from hers, but the pressure weighed on me. She wanted an answer and I wasn’t willing to share. This was casual. We had agreed.
“Who’s the girl inside?” Her voice shook.
“She’s…” I couldn’t find the right words. I couldn’t say no one. This was another line, more like a deep divide, and I wasn’t certain I could offer even a nugget of information.
Emme looked away from me while I knelt before her. Her sideways gaze was brief and she returned to me with a false smile.
“I think I should go,” she said softly. My lips smashed together and twisted in frustration. She was running away again. Damn it. I maneuvered myself out of the back seat, and Emme followed me out the side door. She stepped aside while I slid it closed.
“Wait! You aren’t going back inside?” My body blocked her from reaching for the door handle. I don’t know why I assumed she would return to the c
lub, but I had hoped. I didn’t want her to leave. Not like this, not again. Even though I had to work, I could still keep my eye on her. Working security was a second job. It paid well and I had hours to fill.
“I think I’m just going to go home.” Pinched lips aimed at me. Her hand smoothed down her hip. The skirt fit snug and hugged her curves. So beautiful, I thought again. Her platinum hair practically glowed under the dim parking lot lights and the just-fucked look was sexy. Her blouse was sheer, hinting at what I was well aware hid beneath it. I had to look away as I was already growing hard for round two.
“You don’t want to dance?” I asked, nodding toward the club. I didn’t really like the idea of her dancing with other guys, even that harmless old man, Henry. He’d be having fantasies of her for months. Hell, if he knew what her body could do, he’d die from cardiac arrest, but he’d be a happy man. The thought made me shiver.
“I don’t really dance. My friend, Gia, made me come here.”
“Gia, huh.” Then I realized what she said. “You don’t dance?”
“I…I just don’t…” She was so adorable when she was flustered and I bit back my smile.
“Tell me,” I asked softly, brushing back a stray hair. My hand rested on her neck, just under her ear.
“I…” Avoiding my eyes, she spoke. “I can’t dance. I mean, I can, I just don’t.”
“What?”
“I don’t dance.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not…” She wasn’t looking at me, and I tugged at her neck to force her focus to me. “I’m not really comfortable dancing. Besides, Nate said I wasn’t very good at it.”
“He…” Bastard. Who tells his wife she can’t dance? Her blue eyes warned me not to speak.
“Well, I can’t let you leave without a dance.”
“Merek, I just told you, I don’t dance.” Her tone grew angry, but I tugged her toward the end of the van.
“Just one dance. With me.” My arms circled her, holding her close to me. For only a second, her arms dangled at her side before her hands reached for my biceps. I took one hand with mine and tucked it between us. My hips swayed. She stiffened.
“I can’t do this here,” she giggled, the sound like butterflies flapping tender wings.
“That’s what you thought a few minutes ago, and look what you did.” She stared up at me and her blue eyes crushed me. “Think of it like what we just did. Follow me,” My voice dipped. She nodded. Pulling her closer, I hummed my favorite song and her smile pressed against my shoulder. And that touch warmed me deeper than being inside of her.
I didn’t want to do it, but Gia said I should go out with Rod again. We decided on a movie. I hadn’t seen a movie in so long I didn’t even know what was playing, so I let Rod decide. The comedy was something straight out of a fraternity boys’ wet dream. Tons of T and A, with lots of laughter about drugs and raunchy college kids hooking up. This wasn’t my kind of movie. The predictable scenes were not hilarious to me, while Rod couldn’t control his laughter. When the third sex scene started, he reached for my hand, and that became my focus instead of the film.
Rod’s hands were large and meaty. There wasn’t another way to describe them. I honestly couldn’t remember the touch of his hands from our teenage years, but it wasn’t like this: clammy, moist, and heavy. There was just something not right about his touch. It wasn’t Merek’s. I’d been trying not to think of Merek since he hadn’t called me again. Thinking of him was like my own sordid fraternity wet dream. Thoughts of the young girl he left behind in the bar continued to haunt me. He probably preferred someone like her. Young and lithe, she was most likely more experienced than I, sadly. Which made me think of my youth, and wonder what happened to that girl.
That girl I had been…the one who had dreams and goals. The one who felt sexy in her twenties and used it. The one who wanted a soulmate experience, who was supposed to be my husband, but had sadly turned out not to be. I’d disappeared along the way. I’d lost myself. It took years to find her again, but I didn’t feel complete. Merek popped into my meandering mind.
Gia wondered where I disappeared to the other night. While she didn’t pry, she noted Merek followed after me. She hadn’t noticed if, or when, he returned, so she could offer no report if he had a repeat performance with another woman. Or that girl. My stomach lurched at the thought of him sleeping with others. We didn’t have commitment or stipulations in his proposition. Only, I struggled with the terms of agreement. This was what I wanted, and yet, it wasn’t. Add in the whole lack of kissing thing, and I started to think he had some strange Vivian thing going on. Only I was the client, when I wanted to be considered the pretty woman. I sighed while Rod laughed again and then squeezed my hand.
“This really puts me in the mood.” A harsh whisper hit in my ear. Then he growled. Literally. He sounded like a sick tiger and it was the first thing I found funny all night. It occurred to me that while Merek might be sleeping around, I couldn’t.
Thankfully, the movie ended.
“My place or yours?” he teased. The flirtation unsettled me, but I offered my home. I found it odd that Rod didn’t ask for an after movie drink or an ice cream dessert. He claimed he had to work early the next morning, but he wanted to go to his house or mine. It puzzled me at first, but the excuse was reminiscent of poor ones from the past. Nate had them all the time. He couldn’t do this or that because he had to work late. He had to wake early. I understood the code. Nate wasn’t interested in spending time with me. He only wanted occasional sex. Merek used the excuse as well. He hadn’t called because he had to work.
Rod kissed me.
It was a surprise attack that threw me so off guard it took me a moment to catch up to what happened. He pulled back with lazy, hooded lids before opening them and addressing me. We hadn’t moved from the car parked in my driveway.
“You taste exactly the same,” he said. “Just how I remember.”
“Is that good or bad?” I asked, realizing I’d had popcorn during the movie, and probably had salty-butter-kernel breath.
“It’s good.” The words struck me. I didn’t want to be good, like Merek teased. Taking up the challenge, I leaned toward Rod and kissed him back. I tried to throw into his lips what I would do to Merek’s. How I wanted to tease the bow and lick the curl. How I wanted to suck his tongue. How I wanted to nip those lips in hopes he’d beg me for more kisses. Only this wasn’t Merek, and Merek didn’t kiss me.
When Rod pulled back for a breather, his heavy lids plus another growl sealed the deal. I couldn’t do this with him. Rod and I had our shot twenty-five years ago, and it wasn’t going to happen twenty-five years later.
“Want me to come in?” The implication of what Rod wanted was clear and I had my own excuse. I had children.
I need a ride, I texted to her.
Isn’t that my line? she responded.
I’d like it to be your line.
There was a long pause while the three dots rolled and bounced signaling her response.
I can’t.
This better not be another fucking date, I thought. While I wasn’t typically exclusive, I also wasn’t fooling around with anyone else. And while I was a man of many needs, I wanted Emme for now.
Hot date? The question was bitter to type, but as long as we played these awkward word games, it was my only response. I already knew what my reaction would be if she answered with another yes.
Sore throat.
I choked at the thought.
And a headache.
I laughed. Not like I hadn’t heard that excuse before, although it had been a long time since that happened.
Good excuse. I guffawed to myself, bitterly.
It’s true. I get migraines once a month.
I stared at the words: once a month. Well, this was no good. Emme was out of commission, if it was that time of the month. Not that I was opposed to that experience, but we didn’t have anywhere near that comfort level.
Oka
y. Well, hope you feel better soon.
When the only response was a smile emoji, I felt less than stellar. I called my brother instead.
Finding ourselves at Bruno’s late on a Tuesday night was dangerous. The Cubs were on and the place was packed. Marshall was in rare form, hitting on anything with two long legs even though Bridget was having his baby. It reminded me of when I was still young, and foolish, and didn’t know better. Marshall wasn’t a youngster, though. He needed to get his head out of his ass and marry the girl. Pissed off in my own right, for no apparent reason, I picked at Marshall.
“What the fuck you doing, man?” He’d just tugged a girl onto his lap. “You’re going to be a father.”
The girl looked over her shoulder at Marshall and cooed. “You’re going to be a daddy? That’s so sweet.” She was wasted and had no idea what she was saying.
“I’ll be your daddy for the night,” he slurred, and the brunette giggled.
“I mean, a real father, dickhead.” I sucked back my beer, briefly glancing at the game on the large screen.
“Like you’re a real father?” He barked back over the uproar of the bar when the Cubs scored. My eyes narrowed at him.
“I don’t need this shit tonight,” I said, standing abruptly, brushing back my chair.
“Sit down. I didn’t mean it.” Keeping his eyes on me, he placed a kiss on the neck of the girl.
“What did you mean, then?”
“Nothing. What’s your problem tonight?” He nudged the girl to shift to his other thigh.
“You’ve got a girl who loves you. She’s having your baby, and you’re out here dicking around.”
The expression of Lap-girl shifted. Her eyes lowered and she picked at the label on Marshall’s beer bottle.
“Dicking around is what we do,” Marshall laughed, jostling the girl up and down on his knee.
“Why?” Lap-girl and I asked at the same time.
