by P. J. Mellor
Ashley gritted her teeth. She should have kept her big mouth shut today at work. But Amy had been her friend since college. She knew Daryl. Ashley had hoped Amy would tell her all the reasons why doing the deed with Daryl would not be a bright idea.
Instead, Amy had jumped on the Daryl bandwagon and practically twisted her arm about accepting. She’d even talked Ashley into footing the bill for a romantic getaway.
“Yes,” she told Amy, “I made the reservations. Do you think it would be tacky to ask Daryl to pay for half?” She could afford it, but Daryl made way more money.
“What part of go for it didn’t you understand? How can you go for it when you ask your boy toy to foot half the bill? Besides, I know you. If it doesn’t work out, you will feel guilty for asking him to invest and stay with him out of guilt. That’s your MO.”
“It is not!” She tossed the menus back into the basket and wondered if Daryl would be interested in splitting a pizza.
“It certainly is, too. Remember what happened with Andre? After you had such hot sex at the Halloween party, you were practically willing to have his baby. In the blink of an eye, you moved in with him and poor Daryl. Be honest. The next time you had sex with Andre again, you were disappointed. Majorly. Am I right?”
“Yes, okay, you’re right. But that doesn’t prove anything. We all know hot sex cools over time.”
“Not by the second time, girlfriend! Wake up and smell the coffee.” Amy sounded like she was eating something. Probably something delicious. “And what did you do? You hung in there for almost two whole years. And why? Because you were so committed after that one multiorgasmic time that you felt guilty that he couldn’t make you come again. As if that was your fault! Like I said, it’s what you do. And don’t try to deny it.”
Ashley leaned against the granite counter and rubbed her temples. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t take Daryl up on his proposition? Or that I shouldn’t whisk him away?”
“Girlfriend, haven’t you listened to a word I said all day? Heck, no, I’m not saying those things! Do not pass go; do not collect two hundred dollars. Grab that hunk and lock him in your hotel room. Then I want you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“Don’t scrutinize it; don’t analyze it. Make me proud. Screw his brains out.”
4
Daryl glanced down at his cell and ignored its ring. Ashley. He wanted to answer. He was afraid to answer. He was afraid he knew what her answer was going to be.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” Collin, Ashley’s now-ex-fiancé and one of Daryl’s best friends, leaned back in the booth, wiping the remnants of their shared hot wings from his hands with a Wet-Nap.
“Tell me again why you dumped Ashley?”
Collin threw his wipe on the table and heaved a sigh. “Bottom line? We were incompatible.” He shrugged. “End of story. I woke up one day and realized some things.” He ticked off his points on his fingers. “We were engaged. Engaged meant we would marry. I realized I had no intention of marrying someone I obviously couldn’t satisfy, if you know what I mean. I’d have a miserable life. So would she, for that matter.” He picked up his draft beer and took a swig.
“Sexually incompatible, right? But you loved her.”
That question earned another shrug from Collin’s broad shoulders. If rumors were true, Collin was a stud, a god among studs, even. And yet, he couldn’t sexually satisfy Ashley. How could Daryl compete?
Just as he thought Collin wasn’t going to answer, he mumbled, “There was that, too.” He leveled a look. “I guess, on some level, I knew I didn’t love her. Not the way I should have. I watched her with Andre, wanting her. She had a smoking-hot body. Still does, but…Did you ever hear them going at it at night when we all lived together?” He shook his head, his long black hair swinging. “I walked around with a boner for two years. I admit, I wanted some of that. And I wanted it bad.”
Which was exactly why Daryl had opted to move out.
“So,” Daryl began, half holding his breath at what the answer might be. “I take it you have no lingering feelings for Ashley? You wouldn’t be, well, jealous, if someone else went out with her?”
Collin cuffed Daryl’s arm, causing him to wince.
“You have my blessing, my man.” He lifted his mug and grinned. “Along with my sincere sympathies.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Ashley is frigid.” He nodded vigorously. “It’s true. Ask Andre.”
“But we heard them—”
Collin snickered. “Yeah, from what I hear, it was all her, trying to get in the mood. Never did. My advice, bro, is if you’re looking to dip your wick, you need to look elsewhere. Ashley Clark will make your nuts shrivel.”
Daryl paused outside Ashley’s apartment door and took a deep breath.
Collin and Andre were wrong. Ashley was a hot, responsive lover. He knew. He also knew she’d climaxed, multiple times, the one time they’d been together. Sure, women faked that stuff all the time, but she’d been so wet it had been hard to stay inside. And he’d held her wrist. Pulses don’t lie.
Ashley Clark may be frigid with everyone else, but he knew, deep in his heart, she was anything but that with him.
Now he just needed to convince her.
Ashley threw open the door at his knock, temporarily short-circuiting his thought processes with the Hawaiian-print strapless number she probably considered a casual sundress. To him, it was a primal signal for sex. Of course, Ash probably wouldn’t agree. He took a step back.
“Oh!” Her slender hand fluttered by her throat like a nervous hummingbird, the brilliant blue stone of the ring on her middle finger flashing with each movement. “Hi.” She smiled up at him, taking his breath away. “I thought you were the pizza guy.”
He looked beyond her bare shoulder into her empty apartment. The relief he felt at finding her alone was disproportionate to the situation, but he couldn’t help it. “Mind if I join you? I had a few wings earlier, but I’m starving.”
Without waiting for an invitation—after all, they’d been friends forever, and it would seem sort of weird for him to politely stand in the hallway, waiting to be invited in—he pushed past her and walked into her kitchen. “What kind did you order? There’s enough for me, right?”
She sighed and closed the door but was smiling when she turned to face him. He decided that was a good sign.
“Hand-tossed stuffed crust, bacon, black olives, pepperoni, ham, mushrooms, green pepper, and double cheese.” She grinned and shrugged. “You know, the usual health food. I think we should be able to eek by with the extra-large.”
Her flowery perfume wrapped around him as she brushed past to open a cabinet over the dishwasher. “Get the napkins, will you?” Rising on tiptoes, she stretched for the plates.
“Here, let me get those for you.” He lurched behind her, reaching over her head as he pinned her against the counter.
Against his belly, he felt her turn, the soft pillows of her breasts squishing against his thundering heart.
Obviously Ashley had neglected to put on a bra.
He had no complaints.
They stood, plastered against each other, mouths inches apart, breath mingling.
Daryl could think of a few other things he wouldn’t mind mingling.
“Daryl,” she whispered.
“Ashley,” he said at the same time.
He stepped back, pleased when she didn’t immediately take advantage of the space. “Ladies first.”
“I’ve been, um, thinking about your idea.” She licked her lips, and he wished she’d just shut up and kiss him. “And I’m—”
“Not sure it’s a good idea, right?” He nodded sagely, schooling his expression. “Perfectly understandable. But before you make your decision, you really need to weigh all the pros and cons.”
Her eyebrow arched, and she crossed her arms, pushing up her already-impressive cleavage. “Really?”
He swallowed audibly and had to force his gaz
e to meet hers. “Absolutely. It’s the only way to make an informed, educated decision.”
Ashley bit her lip to stop the giggle that threatened to erupt. Even if sex with Daryl was a dismal failure, it would be fun. She really could use some fun. A glance at the clock on the microwave told her they had at least another twenty minutes before their pizza would arrive.
Between her on-and-off attraction to Daryl for most of her life and Amy’s pep talk that afternoon, she’d already decided to take him up on his offer.
But it might be fun to tease him a little.
“I’m sure you’ve talked to Andre. Maybe even Collin.” He nodded, a wary look on his face. “Then you know their opinions about me, where sex is concerned?”
He nodded again. “But I’ve never seen any indication of anhedonia, despite their claims. After all, no experiment uses only two test subjects and—”
“Anhedonia? That’s a crock! I can, too, absolutely experience pleasure.”
“I know.” He looked down. “I mean, I’m sure you can, especially given the right stimuli.”
She stepped close, close enough to feel her nipples pushing against the elasticized bodice of her sundress where her breasts touched Daryl’s firm chest. She’d show him stimuli. Was that a shudder she felt ripple through him?
“Do you like my sundress? I picked it up today on my way home from work.” She normally wore things she could wear a bra with, but the upcoming sex-only vacation with Daryl made the sundress a perfect choice.
Daryl swallowed again. “It’s, um, very nice. It will probably be nice and cool this summer.”
Nice was not the look she was going for when she bought the dang dress. Pouting, she forced a sigh. “Thanks. But I have one problem. If I take a deep breath and do this.” To demonstrate, she extended her arms above her head with the same results she’d had in the fitting room: her bodice flipped, rolling to her waist, leaving her breasts totally exposed.
Daryl immediately turned, averting his eyes. But not before she noted the telltale tent on the front of his khaki slacks.
Biting back a smile, she waited a few seconds. When he remained rooted to the tile, she said, “How do you expect us to have a sex-only relationship experiment if you can’t even stand to look at my breasts?” Pause. “Do you think I need a boob job? Would that make me more appealing to you?”
“What! No! You’re fine. They’re fine.” His shoulders slumped. “They’re perfect,” he said in a rough whisper.
“Then turn around and look at them, Daryl. Please. If we’re going to go through with this, I have to not feel uncomfortable with you.”
Slowly he turned, his gaze zooming in on her nipples, which immediately puckered. “They really are, um spectacular, just the way they are, Ash.”
He stretched his arm, finger extended, until it grazed the tip of her right nipple.
Electric awareness zipped from the tip of her nipple directly into her aching core.
Her breath caught. It took all her strength to not fling herself into his arms and beg. But she wasn’t sure what she would beg for, so she locked her knees. “More,” she whispered as their eyes met.
He stepped closer, his warm palms enveloping each breast, breasts that grew noticeably heavier within seconds.
His thumbs brushed back and forth across her nipples, the action causing a distinct wetness between her legs.
He licked his lips. “Pretty,” he said in a reverent whisper.
Suck them, she wanted to shout. But speech evaded her. Instead, she slid her hands up his arms until she gripped each side of his head. In slow motion, she drew him down until she felt his hot breath against her puckered nipple.
Rising on the tips of her toes, she arched her back, the action causing her nipple to brush the seam of his mouth.
Daryl had always been smart, a quick learner. He immediately latched on to her aching nipple, suckling greedily, his arms crushing her close to him.
Each strong pull of his mouth created an answering ache deep within her. Almost light-headed with relief to find they were attracted to each other, she rubbed shamelessly against him, practically riding his leg.
One of his arms dropped lower as he bunched her skirt higher and higher until his hand was on the trembling cheek of her excited bottom, revealed by her new thong.
Wild for him now, she writhed against him in an attempt to climb his body and appease the ache growing to monster proportions deep within.
His hand flexed, squeezing her cheek, before sliding down to dip between her legs, his fingertips tracing the wet satin crotch of her thong.
His mouth switched to her other breast. A growl sounded deep in his throat. Wait, maybe that came from her. Regardless, it was thrilling.
His shaking hand shoved the string of fabric aside, immediately petting her wetness.
Their labored breathing filled the small kitchen.
Good grief, she couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone the way she wanted Daryl at that moment. She tried reaching for his zipper but found her arms weren’t quite long enough.
She wanted him. She wanted all of him, and she wanted him now. Right there, in the kitchen of her apartment, on the granite counters she’d just polished that morning. Heck, she didn’t care if they did it on the tile floor. She just knew she had to feel him, naked and ready against her own nudity. Had to feel the hardness pressed against her without the hamper of fabric. Had to…
Ding-dong.
5
Daryl immediately released her. Cool air bathed her wet nipples.
She stared at him.
He stared at her breasts.
Ding-dong.
“P-pizza’s here.” Fumbling with her bodice, she finally managed to pull it back into place.
“Wait. Here.” He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, grabbed her wrist, and pushed the bills into her hand. “You paid last time; this one’s on me.”
Numb, she could only nod.
Ding-dong.
On wobbly legs, she made her way to the door. Instead of her usual delivery boy, a man old enough to be her father stood in the hall, an unzipped insulated bag in his outstretched arm.
An awkward silence filled the space, during which his bifocaled gaze skimmed her from her bare feet to her head.
Pizza Guy smiled, revealing a split between his front teeth. “Extra-large, hand-tossed stuffed crust, double cheese, black olives, ham, pepperoni, green peppers, and bacon?”
“Light sauce?” He nodded and she handed him the money. “That’s me. Thanks!”
After passing her the pizza, he glanced at the money in his hand. “Change?” When she shook her head, he flashed another smile and winked. “Thanks. Have a great evening!”
Leaning against the closed door, Ashley shivered as Daryl took the pizza out of her hand.
“Ash?” He put the pizza box on the entry table. “You okay?”
“He knew. Did you see the way he looked at me? He knew!”
“Knew what?” Gently, he pulled her away from the door, into the living room.
“That I, that we…you know. I could tell by the way he looked at me. He knew.”
Daryl led her to the leather sofa and waited until she was sitting before retrieving the pizza box and taking his place next to her. “Here,” he said, handing her a piece of pizza, melted cheese practically dripping from its pointed end. “Eat. It will make you feel better. You always overreact when you’re hungry.”
He was right, of course. Dang his hide, he was always right. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“Can we talk about what just happened?” she asked when he returned from the kitchen with plates and napkins.
Wordlessly, he handed her another piece of pizza as he nodded.
She wanted to tell him she’d changed her mind, but she hadn’t. She wanted to tell him he wasn’t her type. But, she’d just realized, he was. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she wasn’t hungry, but since she was already reaching for her third piece
of pizza, he’d know she was lying.
Maybe having a sexual relationship with a psychiatrist wasn’t one of her brighter ideas.
But now that the idea was planted in her brain, she couldn’t bring the words to her mouth to end it before it began.
“Why are you smiling?” She didn’t trust a smiling Daryl, especially not after what he—they—had just done before the pizza arrived. Well, almost done.
He reached for another slice. “‘Cause I love stuffed crusts. I always forget to order it that way.”
“Glad I made you happy.”
He stopped chewing and glanced down at her bodice. His swallow echoed in the quiet living room. “Ash, you have no idea.”
“Listen,” she began, turning and tucking one foot beneath her leg. “While I agree we have some chemistry going for us.” At his arched brow, she amended her words. “Okay, we have a lot of chemistry. But I don’t think a sexual relationship between us would work. I mean, think of the awkwardness. What would we do when we didn’t have sex scheduled? I don’t want to be a burden to you, make you feel you had to perform whenever we were together. Face it, Daryl, we’re together a lot. If we tried to have sex every time we were together, we’d be worn out in no time. See what I mean?”
“I do and I don’t agree.” He wiped his mouth and sat back. “Got any beer?”
“Yeah, in the fridge. I’ll get it.” She stood and picked up their plates.
Daryl thought she was calling the whole thing off. Was that what she was trying to do? If she was smart, that’s exactly what she’d do.
Unfortunately, she’d never been smart when it came to men. Why start now? Then again, what better time?
But the ache from the episode in the kitchen remained, tainting her judgment. At least that was the excuse she used. Besides, she really loved spending time with Daryl. Even if they agreed to never have sex, she knew they would have a great getaway.
When she returned with his beer, she said, “Since we agree a sexual relationship would probably not work, I have a counter proposition.” When he paused with the bottle poised at his lips, she hurried on. “I thought maybe a sex-only vacation would work better for us, especially since it would be a finite time. Easier and less messy than an actual sexual relationship would be. So…that’s why I rented a beach house in Corpus Christi. I also made plane reservations, so it’s too late to back out,” she finished in a rush. Holding her breath, she chewed on her lower lip.
