by Hazel Kelly
I could taste a tang of orange mixed in with his beer-soaked tongue as he unhooked my bra. And after years of wondering what he thought of my body, it was a rush to expose myself to him like this, to feel his hands and eyes on me.
He grabbed my hips and slid me along the length of him before raising me in the air so he could suck one of my nipples into his mouth.
I let the weight of my body rest against his torso as my head fell back, and when the stirring sensations in my breasts began to spread through me, I reached for the back of the couch to steady myself.
He pushed my pants down over my ass, teasing my sensitive cheeks with his fingernails until warm tingles rose up my back.
I was lost in the delicate high of it when he flipped me onto the couch and dragged my pants the rest of the way off.
“You’re not wearing any underwear.”
“Am I not?” I looked up and feigned surprise. “Must’ve gotten into the habit this week.”
He clenched his jaw and exhaled, his eyes running over me like I was glistening on a spit.
“Why do you always do that?” I asked as he pulled his shirt off, revealing abs that tapered to a muscular V that disappeared behind his waistband.
“What?” he asked, casually pushing his sweatpants down with his boxers, as if I might be in any way used to seeing him so hard.
“Stop like that right before you drive me wild.”
He dropped to his knees. “For the same reason people stare at sunsets.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. I couldn’t entertain abstract thoughts when he was naked and admiring me and pulling my thighs towards him and planting his face between my legs.
I dropped my head back as he laid his tongue against me, gushing at the tenderness of that first touch before letting my eyes fall shut.
He knew just how to work me, nice and gentle and rhythmically until I could handle more pressure and speed, at which point he seemed to really start enjoying himself. Sometimes he’d even match me moan for moan, his growls even louder than the sound of his tongue splashing along the edges of my wet slit.
I gasped for breath when I realized I’d been holding it, and he sped up the pace, his tongue flicking my clit relentlessly. I grabbed a fistful of his thick hair and whimpered, knowing he liked to hear how he reduced me to a panting, pleasure-filled mess.
“You’re going to make me come,” I said as he brought me to the brink.
Suddenly, his tongue retreated and he kissed his way up my body until he was over me, the presence of his intimidating hard-on tangible over my tender pussy.
He dropped his silky lips to mine, and I kissed myself off them as I reached for his dick and guided it to my wet seam. And when he forced me open, he slipped his tongue in my mouth, invading me everywhere until I was full of him.
After he broke me in with a few slow thrusts, I pulled my knees up and wrapped my legs around his waist, giving him access to my throbbing depths and letting him fill me in places I didn’t know were empty, places only he could reach.
When he slowed down, I looked up and focused on his face.
He kept his upper body still and gazed down at me, his eyes dark with lust as he fucked me in slow motion, feeding me one inch at a time so I could savor the overwhelming shape of him.
The first few times we slept together, he made a point of checking if I was okay, but one day I insisted he stop, promising that I wasn’t that fragile, that he wasn’t going to break me. But he still asked from time to time, only now the conversation was had with our eyes alone.
I reached up and laid a hand on his cheek. He turned his head and kissed my wrist, holding his lips against my pulse. Then he brought his eyes back to mine, and I could see that he was going to come, that he wanted me to join him.
He held himself still, as deep inside me as he could reach, and with one flex of his jaw, he let me know it was time to grind against him. My hips moved in circles, nice and slow, my tight pussy milking him as I crushed my clit against the base of his throbbing cock.
And when a sharp gasp escaped my throat, he thrust twice more, triggering both our orgasms, and as we watched each other’s eyes glaze over with pleasure, it felt like neither of us would ever look away.
F O R T Y
- Landon -
With every breath I panted against Margot’s neck, the scent of her sexed up body intoxicated me further. Needless to say, I’d never been happier.
It honestly felt like all the shit I’d been through before must’ve been merely the cosmic counterbalance required to make up for my present euphoria. And yet, I knew life didn’t work that way. It didn’t hand out rewards and punishments in equal measure. In fact, more often than not, it was completely haphazard. Like a deck of cards rigged with too many jokers.
But the joke being played on me in that moment—the jest that Margot Roberts actually grew up to be crazy about me, too—was a punchline worthy of a standing ovation.
And it felt good to have a laugh after being the universe’s bitch for so long.
When she nibbled my ear, I rolled onto my side, conscious that my heavy body might render her a permanent couch pancake if I didn’t move.
She rolled with me, keeping me inside her while I bent my elbow and propped my head up on my hand. Neither of us spoke as we maintained eye contact. We didn’t need to. The stupid smiles on our faces gave us both away.
Margot lifted a hand and laid it flat against my chest, casting her eyes down to where my heart beat against her palm.
I wanted to know what she was thinking. I wanted to know everything she’d ever thought. Logically, I knew that would be impossible. I’d have to settle for whatever she told me as she made sense of things herself. But even in my exhausted state, my thirst for her seemed insatiable.
She lifted her shiny eyes back to me, and they crinkled at the edges.
For some reason, her expression worried me, and a bad taste crept up my throat. The angelic voice that followed ripped the ground right out from under me.
“I love you, Landon.”
I thought I might be sick, and when I realized my dick had been negatively affected, I pulled out of her and sat up, sliding to the far end of the couch so I could drop my feet to the floor.
“Landon.”
I couldn’t even look at her. My only hope was that she’d forget she said it and let the sentiment evaporate into thin air. Please don’t make a big deal out of this. Please, please let it go.
“Landon.” She propped herself up on straight arms. “Look at me.”
I exhaled and turned my face towards her. Her chest was flushed all the way up her neck where my day-old stubble had rubbed against her.
“I said I love you.”
“Thanks,” I said, hearing the lack of conviction in my own voice.
She raised her eyebrows. “Thanks?”
The glow of her cheeks faded before my eyes.
“Thanks?!”
Obviously, it was the wrong thing to say.
She pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest. “That’s worse than saying ‘backatcha.’”
“You know how I feel about you, Margot. Let’s not spoil it with meaningless wor—”
“I thought I knew how you felt about me. But now that I’ve made a complete ass of myself, I can see I was sorely mistaken.”
“It’s not like that.” I reached to the floor and pulled my sweats on, her eyes boring holes into me the whole time.
“What is it like, then?”
The hurt in her face was so intense I wished the ground would swallow me up and spit me out anywhere but here. “Can’t we be happy with the way things are?”
She huffed and reached to the floor to grab her clothes.
“Margot.”
She ignored me.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way.”
Her head snapped back in my direction. “What does that even mean?”
“I’m just not comfortable with that expressi
on, okay? It’s never brought me anything but bad luck.”
She pulled her shirt on over her head. “I’ve heard a lot of bullshit from men in my life,” she said, turning her pants back from inside out. “But this is a whole new level of commitment-phobia.”
“That’s not it.”
She pulled her pants back on.
“Hear me out.”
“I’m not your fucking shrink, Landon. I’m your girlfriend—finally—and I thought we were on the same page.”
“We are on the same page,” I said, reaching a hand for her closest shoulder.
She scooted away from me, making my couch feel uncomfortably big. “Clearly, we aren’t, and I feel like a fool.”
“Don’t, okay. I just can’t say that.”
“Because you don’t feel it.” She raised her palms. “That’s fine. I get it. You’re welcome.”
“The last time I said that to a woman she walked out of my life forever that same day.”
Her eyes searched mine.
“That same day.”
She sighed.
“Words are cheap,” I said. “I don’t want to cheapen what we have by decorating it with a bunch of meaningless sentiments that are as easy to come by as the Hallmark cards they’re printed on.”
“So what? So you were just never going to say it? Ever?”
My mind strained for some way to make her understand.
Her chest sank as she stared at me.
I watched her reach for her purse by the leg of the coffee table. “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving,” she said, standing up. “There’s not enough room in here for me and your issues, and obviously, they aren’t going anywhere.”
“Don’t be like that. We’re solid, and you know it.”
“I thought I knew it, but I need to hear it, Landon. From you, in your voice. Maybe you can’t understand that, but I need it like I need air, and if you can’t give me that, then the very least I need is the latter.”
I stood up and moved quickly to block the door. “Don’t do this, Margot. Don’t say you love me and then leave.”
She blinked so slowly I felt the weight of her disappointment like a punch to the gut.
“That’s exactly what I just told you I was most afraid of.”
“Grow up, Landon.”
“Stay.”
She shook her head.
“Please. If you care about me at all, you will not walk out right now. Not like this. Not after—”
“If I care about you at all?! I just told you I love you. I’m in love with you.”
My chest tightened so fast I thought I was having a heart attack, but I parted my lips and—
“Don’t you dare say it now,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “Not like this. Don’t you dare.” She shoved me away from the door.
I froze and swallowed the takeout-flavored sick that bubbled up my throat before realizing I had to stop her. I couldn’t let her leave full of hurt like that. Because of me.
But when I stepped into the hallway, it was too late. She was gone.
Gone.
F O R T Y O N E
- Margot -
It hurt so bad that he couldn’t say it back, and it was only when he didn’t that I realized how much I needed to hear it.
Yet as bad as I was hurting, I didn’t regret saying it myself. Because it was true. I did love him. I loved him so much it made me ache all the time, and it felt right to tell him. So even though it broke my heart that he wasn’t happy to hear it, I couldn’t regret saying it. Nor could I wish in vain for a take-back.
I did, however, regret making that comment about his issues. It was a fucked up thing to say to anyone, much less someone who understandably has issues. And of course I felt sick about storming out like I did, which led to a miserable night of stewing in a tiny room with poor ventilation.
Not that I ever noticed the thickness of air before that night.
But I was too hurt to stay. Too mortified. Too immature. In fact, the situation brought back that horrible feeling I used to have every year when I would write him a heartfelt Valentine and then rip it up because I felt foolish. How come I understood back then that my feelings for him were too big to be returned and yet I failed to see that before I opened my stupid mouth on Saturday?
Was I getting dumber? Is that what love does to people? Because that’s a pretty lousy side effect for something so otherwise wonderful. On the plus side, if that theory was true, maybe Landon did love me after all…because he’d never acted like a bigger idiot.
Not that he didn’t try to call. He had. Twice on my way home. But after that, nothing. Just me and the ringing in my ears from the boiling blood charging through my veins.
What a fucking disaster. How the hell were we going to work together with this swarm of bullshit between us?
I mean, surely he would come to his senses and apologize since he did love me. Of course he did. I could feel it in my marrow. And while all women have an aptitude for self-deception, there was no way I could have been deluding myself to that degree… Right?
Regardless, if I had to apologize first to make things bearable at the office, I would happily take the higher ground in order to open up a dialogue again. Because we had to work things out. There was no way I could go back to living without him now that I knew how great we were together. It wasn’t even an option.
So as soon as I got to work, I went straight to his office to clear the air. I planned to tell him that I still loved him, even though he was an idiot, and that I was sorry I’d thrown a tantrum. Even though he was an idiot.
Something like that.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t in. He was meeting with Dick. I felt a little unsettled by that, since there was a chance they were talking about the incident at the theater, but I convinced myself otherwise. After all, if Dick was really pissed, he would’ve brought it up last week after it happened.
For the next hour, I focused on my work as best I could before returning to Gloria’s desk to see if Landon was back yet.
“He doesn’t work here anymore.” She said it like she didn’t quite believe it herself.
“Pardon?”
“He no longer works—”
“I heard you,” I said. “I just don’t understand you.”
She pointed her French manicure towards the ceiling. “Don’t kill the messenger, Margot. He didn’t explain himself to me either.”
I blinked at her for a few seconds before pulling my phone out to text him. Wtf, Landon? You quit? I hit send and marched straight to Dick’s office at an unprofessional pace, barely stopping to knock when I reached the door.
“Come in,” he said.
I burst in and looked around for Landon like I expected to find him hiding in the boss’s office as part of some lame prank.
“What can I do for you, Margot?”
“I just heard a rumor that Landon Bishop doesn’t work here anymore.”
“It’s not a rumor,” he said, his mouth twitching like he was equally annoyed. “It’s a fact.”
I craned my neck forward and waited for an explanation.
“Oh, you didn’t know? I assumed he would’ve discussed his better opportunity with you of all people.”
The way he said it made me want to rip out every last one of the few remaining hairs on his head.
“All I know is that he’s taken his skills elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“That’s none of my concern,” he said. “The only thing I care about is whether you can implement the rest of the Fujama campaign without his help.”
It was the first time since I got the news that my job even crossed my mind.
“Margot?”
“Yes?”
“That’s the part where you say you can take it from here and you go back to being a working professional.”
I was both grateful for and insulted by his tip. “I can take it from here.”
He nodded once before picking up h
is phone. “Glad to hear it.”
I knew that was my cue to leave, but my shoes felt like they were filled with lead.
“Do you mind?” he asked, raising his crazybrows.
I forced a toothless smile and excused myself. Then I headed straight to the bathroom because I wasn’t sure if I was going to cry or puke. All I knew was that I was momentarily useless and needed a second to stand around like a dormant zombie.
I punched in the code and stepped in front of the mirror. “What have I done?” I whispered.
A few seconds later, my stupor was interrupted by a buzz in my pocket. Landon.
Long story. Can’t talk now. I’ll explain everything soon. Just need a few days to sort some stuff out.
My fingers had never typed so fast. Promise?
Promise.
I cringed as I tapped a response. Is it something I said? Of course it was. This was all my fault. I held my breath until his next text came through.
It’s everything you said.
A lump welled in my throat.
In a good way.
I pressed a palm against my forehead and pushed my hair back. Please don’t pack your stuff in boxes and move, I typed, stepping out of my heels onto the cool tiles.
That is not part of the plan, he wrote. But I do have a plan. Trust me.
I turned around, hopped up on the counter, and crossed my ankles as I typed my next text. Am I part of the plan? It was pathetic, but it didn’t feel like my desperation could make things any worse at that point.
Two whole minutes passed before he answered. You are the plan.
I let out a massive sigh of relief, which lessened the sharp tightness in my chest. I don’t know what that means, but my brother will kill you if you break my heart.
Don’t be so dramatic, he texted. I might be an idiot, but I don’t have a death wish. I like my life.
My breath grew shallow as I read the message, and I was about to ask him if he could clarify whether he’d read that vital bit about my heart when his last text came through.
