by Vivian Wood
“Yes,” she says, her voice breathy. “God, I want you so bad.”
“Mmm. Show me with your fingers where you would want my mouth.”
She slowly dips two fingertips into her core, and draws them back up to her clit. She moans softly. “Like this?”
“Jesus christ,” I say. “Yes, just like that.”
I stop for a second, rucking my boxers and my slacks down to my knees. I lay on my side, and fist my cock, paying special attention to the piercing at the tip of my penis. I look back at my phone screen, and see that Cady is already getting close, if her moans are anything to judge by.
She keeps dipping those two fingertips into her center, and then spreading her juices up to her clit. She moans loudly as she circles her clit. She’s going to blow her stack in a second, unless I slow her down.
“Stop,” I say.
Her eyes open, focusing on the screen. “What?”
“Get your vibrator out. Or… do you have a dildo?” I ask.
Her brow puckers. “I… I do…”
“Get them both,” I say. “I’ll wait. And I like this position, where I can see everything.”
She bites her lip, but rolls away. I hear the drawer to her bedside table open, and a second later she reappears with a long, hard dildo made of the same dark pink plastic as her little vibrator.
She repositions herself, and looks at her phone. Uncertain, or maybe shy.
“Go ahead,” I encourage. “I want to watch you come so hard that you can’t see straight.”
Cady turns the dildo on. I get the pleasure of watching as she takes it inside, her center so slick by now, her body so ready, that it goes in without much friction.
“Fuck!” she moans, wincing. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good.”
I keep my hand moving on my cock, squeezing a little more forcefully now. “Yeah? You like that?”
“Mmmhmmm,” she nods.
“Use your vibrator on your clit,” I say. “I want to see you come for me, princess.”
She closes her eyes and turns it on, then applies the pink vibrator to her clit. “Ohhhh omigod…”
“Is it good?” I ask. I’m getting close now, my hand slamming up and down my cock like a jackhammer. “I want to hear it.”
“Fuck, it’s so good. I’m so close,” she breathes. “Fuck, fuck…”
She comes, spasming around the dildo, peaking on a wordless cry. I only need two more pumps to be right there with her; my cock twitches and my balls draw up, and then I come all over my stomach.
I chuckle at Cady, who is carefully removing the pink dildo from her pussy. “That was… something.”
She sets the dildo aside, and moves the camera so that I can see her face more. “That was hot.”
“Yeah, it definitely was. There’s nothing quite like watching your girlfriend lose herself like that. It gives me about ten ideas that I need to try out, ASAP.”
She grins, but yawns. “When you get back, we can try all of them.”
“Is that a promise?”
“It’s a dare,” she says, laughing. “I should go now, though. I made quite a mess over here.”
“Alright. See you later.”
After she hangs up, I get up too, cleaning myself up in the bathroom. Then I change into a bathrobe, laying down on the bed.
I called Cady my girlfriend, I think, laying back amongst the pillows. It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud to her since the bridal shower, I think.
She didn’t really react to it. That could mean that she is just rolling with the punches. She did say something about whatever you need to call me. I cringe, remembering that.
It could also mean that she likes it. She could love being the girlfriend, for all I know. It’s hard to tell what she is thinking or feeling, honestly.
You could just ask her how she feels, I remind myself. It’s not that complicated.
I rearrange the pillows under my head and grab my phone.
Hey. I just wanted to check and make sure that everything is good with you.
I shake my head and erase that. I try again.
Are you cool with me calling you my girlfriend?
Then I erase that too. She already said she was… didn’t she? I don’t want to make her second guess it.
I also don’t want to be the one worrying about this shit. Maybe I should just take our relationship at face value. It’s great sex, coupled with…
I sigh. Coupled with her desire to have a baby. I’m not directly against having kids. Hell, they are definitely part of my future, as far as I see it. But we’re kind of putting the cart before the horse, having a baby together before we are really there yet.
Yeah, that part is kind of untouched, untalked about. And in order to talk about the other stuff, we’d have to address it.
So here I am, unable to formulate a text to say any of that. It’s more of an in-person conversation, without a doubt. Shit, maybe a drunk conversation. At least that way we can both be honest with each other.
So instead of trying to feel Cady’s level of commitment to our relationship out, I turn on the tv and zone out.
Chapter Nineteen
Cady
I sit in a Thai place around the corner from my house, fidgeting. It’s the middle of the day on a Wednesday, and normally I would be at work. Instead, I’m straightening my white chiffon minidress, and fiddling with the table settings. I take a sip of my Thai iced tea, swallowing the sugary goodness.
I’m waiting for Jett, sitting here in a restaurant waiting, like any good wifey would do. Except I’m not his wife… I’m…
Is there even a word for what we are to each other? Probably not. Baby mama-to-be? Friend with benefits?
None of those are quite right. The term girlfriend isn’t quite right either.
Girl who stopped drinking because a guy she likes doesn’t love women who drink? Girl who will be dumped as soon as he realizes that he doesn’t want a crazy, pregnant cow of a girlfriend? Yeah, those sound even worse.
Actually, it sounds pathetic. But after we talked about his judgy-ness about my drinking, I decided to lay off for a while. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve had anything more than a glass of wine, and I feel okay about it.
Besides, there may be another good reason not to drink. I was counting the days since my last period yesterday, trying to do some math. It’s totally possible that I’m just late; my cycle does do it’s own thing a lot.
I decide not to worry about it for another week at the earliest. But yeah, not drinking is happening while I don’t know, at least. If I do get my period, maybe I’ll celebrate slash cry into a glass of wine.
There is one other thing I’ve realized, in the last few days. I like Jett. Like… really like him.
In fact, if I wasn’t trying to get him to knock me up, right about now I would be confessing all my feelings to him. In a normal relationship, that is.
Too bad this was really the opposite of normal. I would just have to keep my feelings to myself, because a baby is more important to me right now than a potential love match.
…isn’t it?
It’s probably too late to decide, anyway, I think. You’re probably already fucking knocked up. And you should be glad that the choice is made, shouldn’t you?
I realize I’m nervous, and the thai tea probably isn’t helping any. I push it away just as I spot him through the huge glass windows in the front. He looks ridiculously handsome, wearing a light grey suit and a starched white shirt underneath. His tattoos and his beard are on point, too. It’s hard not to make a “hhhhuuuunnnnngghhhhhhh” noise when I look at him.
Yeah, it’s only been a week since I’ve seen him. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to rip open his shirt with my bare hands and nuzzle his bearded neck, right here in the restaurant. My cheeks color at the thought.
I must be hormonal, because I am honestly considering fucking him in the bathroom.
He looks for me, and I raise my hand. The grin that lights up his
face when he sees me warms my insides. My lust shifts, turning to something sappier instead.
Stop it! I berate myself.
“Hey,” he says. I stand up and embrace him. It’s so fucking nice to be wrapped in his arms, to feel so small and so protected at once. I hide my face in between his broad chest and his muscular arm. He doesn’t say anything about it, just chuckles.
“Hey,” I say, my voice muffled by the wool of his suit jacket. I hug him hard for a second longer, battling with that unnamed squishy emotion.
Then I let him go, returning to my seat. He takes the seat across from me.
“I brought you something,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket. “It’s little, don’t worry.”
“Oh yeah?” I say.
He pulls out a long white box, about six inches by nine, with a gold bow on top. Jett hands it over, and I pry it open. Inside I find an assortment of handmade chocolate truffles, each colorful and fancy. It comes with a card that has a picture of a cartoon dog shrugging. “For… you know, whatever…” the card reads.
“Amazing!” I say, laughing.
“Yeah, I saw the card, and I thought you would appreciate it,” he says, his blue eyes sparkling.
“I do,” I say, looking at the chocolates. “I know we’re about to eat, but I can’t resist. I have to try one.”
I pick a truffle that’s got a shiny green candy top, and take a bite. It’s filled with a little pistachio ganache, and the sweet flavor makes my mouth water. “Omigod, it’s so good.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Jett says, smiling. He picks up his menu. “Have you eaten here before?”
“Mmm, I have,” I say, putting the top back on the chocolates. “I usually get their red curry bowl.”
“That sounds good,” he says, looking around for our waiter. He signals the young man, and orders two red curry bowls.
“I’m glad you’re back,” I say, trying to sound casual.
“Oh yeah?” he says, his brows raising. “You missed me, huh?”
“If I didn’t make that clear enough over the last week, that’s my bad.” I give him a knowing look.
He leans forward, putting both of his elbows on the table.
“Yeah, I seem to remember something about how bad you wanted me to come back and give you—“
“Shh!” I say, shushing him.
“What? I was gonna say those chocolates.” He grins at me, wicked as ever.
“Uh huh,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Is this thai tea?” he asks, pointing to my glass.
“It is! It’s just too much sugar for me right now.”
He takes the glass and takes a sip. “You weren’t kidding. Why don’t you get a glass of wine?”
“Because it’s lunchtime?” I say, giving him an odd look. “And besides, I’m trying to cut back on drinking.”
“What? Why? It’s not because of that thing I said, is it?”
He looks genuinely concerned, which makes my heart twist in my chest.
“No,” I assure him. “No, just… you know, preparing. I’m going to spend nine months not drinking, might as well get a head start.”
He relaxes. “Oh. Alright. Oh, that reminds me, will you be my date to a wedding?”
“My not drinking makes you think of weddings?” I tease.
To my surprise, his cheeks color. “I just meant—“
“I’m kidding. Of course I’ll go, if my schedule permits. Whose wedding is it?”
“It’s a friend from college. Mason and Alex will be there too, and I’m pretty sure there will be some serious drinking involved.”
“You are selling it by telling me how much drinking there will be?” I ask, squinting.
“Better than with my terrible friends,” he says with a wink. “You’ve met them. They are fucking terrible.”
I flap a hand. “When is it?”
“A couple of weekends from now.”
“Alright. I’ll just have to move some stuff around, I think.”
Our food comes, and we laugh and chat through the meal. He tells a long story about his coworker Stuart, which is devastatingly funny. In the back of my mind though, there is a persistent little voice that will not shut up.
A little voice that asks questions I can’t answer.
What if you’re pregnant? Will you really just be done with him? Better yet, can you just be done?
If you’re not pregnant, will you work up the nerve to ask him out?
But that will put your plan off track, won’t it?
Is it worth possibly sacrificing the ability to have a baby for… what, a shot at something real with a guy that you like?
“Hey,” he says, his brow furrowing. “Are you okay? I feel like I lost you there.”
“Oh, sorry,” I say, shaking my head. I don’t mean to lie, but it comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Don’t laugh, but I was wondering if Milo likes this new food I got him.”
“So what you’re saying is, cat food is far more interesting than my story.” His eyes sparkle, letting me know he’s kidding.
“Yes, exactly,” I say, joking. “If you were looking for ways to make everything you say more interesting to me, that’s where I would start.
“All right, noted.” He eats a bite of curry and noodles.
“What are you going to wear? I’m trying to decide between a long light pink dress and a sort of red silk pantsuit,” I say, pushing my bowl away.
Jett’s eyes twinkle. “Wear the dress. I like the idea of you hitching it up around your waist when we sneak off to have sex during the reception.”
“Jett!” I admonish. “That’s not happening.”
“It is!” he insists, looking pleased with himself. He pushes away his bowl. “You’ll see.”
“In your dreams.” I roll my eyes.
“Every single time I close my eyes,” he says with satisfaction. “That’s less important than the more urgent question, though.”
“Oh yeah?” I say. I take a sip of water. “And what’s that?”
He drops his voice low. “Which of our offices has the more private parking deck? Because it’s been a week since I’ve seen you naked. I can’t go for another minute without running my hands all over—“
“Jett!” I whisper, looking around to see if anyone heard.
“What’s that? You want me to get the check?” he says. He pulls out his wallet and drops a hundred dollar bill on the table. “Done.”
“You can’t seriously think that I’m going to have sex with you in the car.” I frown at him.
“I do think so. Not only that, but you’re going to scream my name when you come. I can tell that you need to get laid as badly as I do. That’s why I think that we need a private corner of the parking deck to do it.”
“Jett…” I say. He’s totally serious now, as far as I can tell.
“You know what you need? You need to be told what to do, princess,” he says, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Get your purse and get moving. If you hurry, I’ll fuck you right away.”
My eyes widen, and my whole body is suddenly hot. “And if I don’t?”
Jett grins, coming around the table to lean in close to my ear. “I’ll make you beg for it.”
He slides his hand around the back of my neck, squeezing. It’s a casually dominant gesture, and it makes me fucking weak in the knees. I feel my nipples stand at attention and my pussy get wet.
I let my head fall back, presenting my mouth to Jett for a kiss.
“Not yet,” he says, his eyes steady on mine. “Get up and go to my car.”
Trembling with anticipation, I rise, gathering my purse. Jett lets his hand drift down to the small of my back as we both leave the restaurant.
Chapter Twenty
Jett
I eye Cady as we sit in the crowded church, mid-ceremony. She is wearing this floor-length dress made of light pink silky fabric, with roses all over the bodice. My fingers itch to touch the silky material. Actual
ly, scratch that.
I want to touch her. The dress is just icing on the cake.
She notices me looking, and reaches out to take my hand. Squeezing my fingers a little, she gently nods towards the front of the church. I try to focus on the wedding at hand, adjusting myself on the hard pews.
The black-frocked minister drones on about the definition of marriage. I look at Mary and Danny, looking every bit like a wedding cake topper. Mary’s expression is solemn, but Danny… he’s actually dabbing at his eyes.
For some reason, seeing Danny nearly cry makes my eyes get misty. I look away, examining the church. It’s small, only about sixty people are in attendance, all squashed into the pews together. The whole interior is done in white ash wood, and the ceiling ends in a wooden steeple.
I meditate on that for a while, counting the ceiling beams and imagining I am inside the ribcage of some great beast. I keep accidentally looking at Danny, and then looking at Cady to avoid looking at Danny.
I wonder if I’ll ever be in Danny’s place, I muse. Proposing to a girl, and walking down the aisle in front of everyone we know? That seems impossible.
I sneak a glance at Cady, who is tearing up now. I scoot closer and she leans against me, her tears falling onto my chest. There’s probably going to be a wet spot on my black suit jacket, but it’s okay. She feels so good right there, her body warm and just the right size for my embrace. I run my hand in little circles on her lower back, trying to soothe her.
I look ahead again, but this time I don’t see Danny and Mary. This time, I imagine that Cady is walking down the aisle, wowing everyone with her perfectly fitted dress. I see myself in Danny’s place, waiting for Cady at the end.
I imagine myself taking her trembling hand, and standing before the minister. We would say the words, he would pronounce us man and wife. I would pull her close, dipping her a little, and crush her lips against mine.
Suddenly, it no longer seems impossible. Instead, it seems… very doable.
Someday.
When everyone cheers and the bride and groom rush down the aisle, I finally snap out of it. Standing up, I stretch.
