I opened my eyes when the mattress shifted, signaling Matt’s return. He paused, doing a double take at her back, his eyes widening as he, I assumed, saw the scars for the first time. He didn’t pause for long, though. He kissed between her shoulder blades, then worked his way up to her neck while she shivered and deepened our kiss.
She moaned softly, digging her nails into the back of my neck. I guessed from the fluid, back and forth motion of her body against mine that he was inside her, fucking her slowly from behind while she kissed me. The more we kissed, the more turned on I was, and the more he fucked her, the more passionately she kissed me. I vaguely remembered that I’d been worried about this whole situation for some reason, but hell if I could remember why. She loved it, loved every—
She tensed.
My blood turned cold.
Matt looked at her. “What’s wrong?”
She winced. “My hip.”
“Getting a cramp?” I asked.
She nodded. Matt stopped, and Meredith exhaled when they separated. She rubbed her hip gingerly. “Just a weird position, I guess.”
He kissed the back of her shoulder. “Think you can handle being on your hands and knees?”
Meredith grinned. “Definitely.”
We shifted positions. I masked my sigh of relief; a little discomfort from an awkward position could be remedied easily, unlike other problems that could have—but hadn’t—cropped up.
Matt knelt behind her, I knelt in front of her, and she gasped when he thrust into her again. She closed first her hand, then her lips, around my cock, and the harder he fucked her, the more enthusiastic she was.
I looked at Matt and mouthed, “Slap her ass.”
He blinked.
I nodded. “Trust me.”
He raised his hand, hesitated, then brought it down on her ass with a satisfying crack. Instantly, his lips parted with a startled breath, and I didn’t have to ask if he understood why I’d suggested it.
“Fuck,” he groaned, blinking a few times before he hit her again, harder this time. She moaned, her voice vibrating against my cock.
“You like that, Meredith?” I tangled my fingers in her hair. “When he hits you like that?”
She moaned again, the closest to an affirmative she could muster just then. Matt slapped her again. Then again. He gasped, no doubt reeling from the way her pussy tightened whenever her hit her, and all the while, she stroked and sucked me with renewed enthusiasm.
The world spun faster and faster around me. Gently grasping her hair, I closed my eyes, let my head fall back, and surrendered. My orgasm peaked and fell, and once I could move without collapsing, I sat back to catch my breath, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Matt fucked her, as he railed her.
Closing her eyes, Meredith licked her lips and clawed at the bedspread. Fucking hell, she looked amazing like this, halfway to an orgasm herself while still tasting mine.
I grabbed her hair and kissed her. Her tongue was salty with semen, and every violent thrust he took inside her knocked a sharp, hot breath out of her and on to my skin.
“Come, baby,” I whispered between kisses. “Let him feel you come again.” With a soft whimper, she shuddered, exhaling against my lips.
Behind her, Matt groaned, then roared, cursing and saying her name and fucking her just a little harder, a little harder, a little harder.
In moments, it was over, and we were all still. Panting, touching, neither speaking nor moving. Meredith’s lips brushed mine but we didn’t kiss. Just breathed.
After a while, Matt got up to get rid of the condom. As soon as he moved, I gently guided Meredith back to the pillows.
She brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. “Oh my God, that was insane.”
“In a good way, I hope?”
She nodded, then raised her head to kiss me. “In a very good way.”
With a groan, Matt dropped on to his back beside her. “Jesus Christ,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Rolling on to my back, I exhaled hard. “I hear that, man, believe me.”
Meredith sat up and looked at me, then him. “You boys aren’t tired yet, are you?”
Matt and I exchanged incredulous looks.
“She’s not kidding, is she?” Matt asked.
I shook my head.
He looked at her and grinned, then glanced at me. “You do have some Red Bull lying around, don’t you?”
“Plenty of it.”
Meredith licked her lips. “Good. Because you’re both going to need it.”
Chapter 18
The day after the threesome, my body ached all over. Whatever nerves or reservations Meredith had had in the beginning, she made up for them in spades, keeping Matt and me busy until well into the night. After Matt took off—joking that Kristen would probably finish off anything Meredith had left—Meredith and I had fucked one last time for good measure.
I was sore, I was exhausted, and I was relieved beyond belief that it had gone well. A few rough spots in the beginning, a safe word used once, but after she’d relaxed and Matt had found his stride, all had gone well. Very, very well, though my quads and hamstrings might have had something to say about that.
By mid-afternoon, most of the soreness had at least begun to ease, and not a moment too soon. I kept glancing at my watch throughout the day, counting down the minutes, because after entirely too long, Amy and I had finally managed to carve out some time together. Physically exhausted or not, I looked forward to an evening in the dungeon with her. Hell, an evening with her at all, whether in the dungeon or not.
First things first, though, I was taking her out to dinner, and around six, her husband dropped her at the restaurant where we’d agreed to meet. When she walked in, my heart jumped into overdrive. I kissed her, then pulled her into my arms just to give my senses a chance to comprehend that she was here.
“Good to see you,” I whispered into her hair, holding her close.
“You too,” she said, and her grasp on me was just as tight.
“It’s been too long.”
“Way too long.”
I kissed her again. “There’s a bit of a wait tonight. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes.”
She shrugged. “I’m in no hurry.”
We exchanged smiles, but for a long moment, neither of us spoke. Considering it had been a while since we’d seen each other, I was surprised I couldn’t think of a damned thing to say. Probably just so many things to catch up on, I didn’t know where to start. That had to be it.
I cleared my throat. “So how goes the master’s thesis?”
She groaned. “I’m starting to wonder what the hell I was thinking, let’s put it that way.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I remember that feeling. It’ll be worth it when you’re done, though.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she muttered. “Same goes with the house.”
“That I don’t doubt in the slightest,” I said. “I wondered why you two didn’t wait to start building it until after you were done with your degree, though.”
“Gluttons for punishment, I guess.”
I chuckled. “Well, I always knew you enjoyed pain, but I didn’t think he did.”
We both laughed, then fell silent again.
After a moment, she said, “How’s Kristen?”
“Good. Juggling the pair of clowns she calls boyfriends, but she manages.”
Amy laughed. “I can only imagine. How are things going with Meredith?”
“They’re going. It’s a slow process.”
“I believe it.”
And we were back to silence. About ten quiet minutes after Amy arrived, the hostess appeared with a pair of leather-bound menus.
“Moore, party of two?”
“Right here.”
“This way, please.” She took us to our table. Once we were alone, Amy and I spent a few minutes focused on the menus we both knew by heart. Neither of us spoke except to make a benign comment here or there about
the long since memorized wine list or the various entrees we’d tried dozens of times before. Since when was making conversation with Amy like getting blood from a stone? E-mails, texts, and phone calls had been a little short and sparse lately, but I’d chalked that up to simply being busy.
A waiter materialized and took our orders. He also took our sheltering menus, leaving us to face each other and fill this foreign silence.
“So,” I said, “how’s Ryan doing?” That struck me as an ironic icebreaker with a girlfriend. Talking about her husband. Only in my world, I supposed. And hell, we’d already talked about Meredith and Kristen, so why not?
Amy sipped her water and set the glass down. “He’s okay. Mostly just stressed about the house.”
“Is he still planning on doing most of it himself?”
“Just the cosmetic stuff.” She laughed. “I think I’m finally getting through to him that he is not Bob Vila.”
“Good, good. At least that should preclude having him anywhere near a nail gun.”
She grimaced. “One can only hope.”
We laughed. Met eyes. And fell quiet again.
A full minute ticked by.
She muffled a cough behind her hand. “Are you still thinking of selling your place?”
I shook my head. “It seemed like a good idea when I first thought about it, but just the amount of work it would take to remodel the dungeon to make the place marketable—”
Right then, the waiter showed up, and he looked at me with raised eyebrows. I could practically hear “Dungeon? Marketable?” bouncing around in his head. He didn’t comment, though, just set our plates on the table.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” To Amy, I said, “What about you?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
The waiter made a quick escape, probably wondering who the hell he was serving.
“Anyway,” I said as I laid my napkin on my lap, “I do like the place, and since it’s just me and Malia…” I trailed off and shrugged.
“If you don’t have a reason to move, I wouldn’t bother. At this point, if we didn’t have so many deposits paid and plans in place, I’d bag the whole thing and just stay where we are.”
“Good point.”
Silence. Again.
Now that we had our food, it was even easier to avoid talking. These uncertain silences were too frequent. Too awkward. Too long. This wasn’t like us. Even when we’d spent time apart in the past, we usually picked up right where we left off without missing a beat. Lately, that hadn’t been the case. It had started before Meredith came back into the picture, and continued right through this dinner together.
After we’d eaten, I paid and we walked in silence out to my car. In the parking lot, I went around to the passenger side, but after I’d opened her door, I paused.
She looked at me, tilting her head slightly. “What’s wrong?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I was going to ask you the same thing, actually.”
Dropping her gaze, she exhaled. So I wasn’t imagining it. Damn it. She turned to set her purse on the passenger seat, but when she stood up again, she didn’t face me. After a heartbeat’s worth of hesitation, I put my hands on her shoulders. She sank back against me and I wrapped my arms around her.
“Talk to me,” I whispered. “What’s wrong?”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “Do you think we should keep doing this?”
I closed my eyes. Exactly what I was afraid of. “What do you think?”
Shaking her head, she put her hands over mine. “I don’t know.”
I loosened my embrace and she turned around to face me.
“Do you want to keep doing this?” I gently grasped her upper arms, making slow, down-up arcs with my thumbs.
Amy sighed and avoided my eyes. “I do, but with everything we both have going on, it’s like pulling teeth for us to find time for each other.” She took a deep breath before meeting my eyes again. “If I’m not stressed over trying to balance this with everything else, I feel guilty for not putting you first, or Ryan first, or… well, not knowing who or what to put first. And it shouldn’t be like that.”
My heart sank. “No, it shouldn’t.”
“I’ve barely even been able to put the time and effort that I need to into my marriage,” she whispered. “And I know this whole thing is bothering you too. With everything you’re doing for Meredith right now, you don’t need this. Neither of us needs this.”
How could I argue with that? I loved her too much to put her last, and there was too much going on in either of our worlds to put each other first. Well, closer to first. We’d both known from the beginning that her marriage took precedence over our relationship, and I was fine with that. But there were other things in both of our lives that kept nudging each other farther and farther down the list. We both deserved to be a higher priority than being tucked somewhere between changing the oil and replacing smoke detector batteries.
I smoothed her hair. “Why don’t we take the pressure off, then? There’s no shame in walking away from this.”
“I know.” She blinked a few times, but couldn’t hide the extra shimmer in her eyes. “There’s no shame, but it’s not easy.”
“No one ever said it would be.” Pulling her to me, I stroked her hair, closing my eyes and swallowing hard as she wrapped her arms around my waist.
“I still love you, Scott,” she whispered.
“I still love you too. Nothing is going to change that.” I hugged her close, swallowing the lump that rose in my throat. On some level, I knew this was right, but it hurt. Jesus, it hurt.
She drew back and our eyes met again. A smile that wavered between unsure and unabashed spread across her lips. “Does this mean we have to stop playing?”
Ah, relief. At least she wasn’t completely gone. As much as I didn’t want to let her go, this was still something. Maybe not enough, but something.
“I don’t see why it should.” I grinned, trailing my fingertips down her cheek. “Do you still want me to beat the hell out of you and then fuck you?”
She shivered. “You have to ask?”
“No, but I thought I’d check to be sure.” I dipped my head and nuzzled her neck. “Still in the mood to go back to my place to play tonight?”
“Mmm, I will be if you keep doing that.”
“Doing what?” I murmured, kissing my way up to her ear.
“That.”
“This?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Good to know.”
Chapter 19
Adjusting to life after Amy was strange. It wasn’t difficult because we’d barely spent time together lately anyway and our relationship had become a source of unnecessary stress and guilt. It wasn’t easy because I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d failed her somehow, that I should have put more effort into saving something into which we’d invested four good years. Nothing had changed, everything had changed. This was right, this was wrong. It was inevitable, it was a shock.
And as guilty as it made me feel to acknowledge it, it was a relief.
“Scott?”
I jumped at the sound of my name and looked up. Matt, Lynette, and Steve watched me, eyebrows raised inquisitively. Cards in their hands, chips on the table, and with another startle, I remembered where I was and what I was doing.
“Sorry, sorry.” I cleared my throat and looked at my cards. Jack. Nine. Seven. Seven. A two, which was wild. Three of a kind. Not a bad start, but not good enough to take any huge risks. I threw five dollars in. “Call.”
Lynette stared at her cards, pursing her lips and tapping a couple of five-dollar chips together. I watched Matt’s impatience unfolding in his expression, and in spite of my mood, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. The longer she hemmed and hawed over her hand, the less he could resist rolling his eyes. It probably would have annoyed me just as much, but his barely-contained irritation amused me. Kristen h
ad the same reaction whenever she played against Lynette, grinding her teeth and glaring over her cards as if trying to telepathically order Lynette to hurry the fuck up.
Lynette finally threw in ten. That gave me pause. She wasn’t a high-risk player at all. Not even a medium-risk player. She must have had something decent in her hand.
We traded cards in to Steve and looked at our new hands. A ten and a three didn’t do me any good; I was still stuck with a three of a kind. Unless I could bluff everyone into folding, I was pretty well fucked.
Steve threw in ten. Matt raised it and put in fifteen.
I shook my head and laid my cards down. “Fold.”
After much consideration on her part and teeth-grinding on Matt’s, Lynette put in fifteen.
“Okay, show ‘em,” Matt said.
Steve laid down a three of a kind. All eights, so he would have beaten me. Matt produced a nine-high straight. Lynette grinned and fanned a Jack-high straight on to the table.
“Damn it, I was sure I had that one,” Matt muttered. “Guess it’s a good thing we’re not playing strip poker.”
Lynette giggled. “Oh, I don’t know. At a table full of men, I wouldn’t—”
“Lynette.” Steve rolled his eyes.
Matt put his hands up. “Hey, if the woman wants to—”
“Shut up, Sommers.”
I gestured at my pitiful stacks of chips. “Matt, before you suggest turning this into a game of strip poker, might I draw your attention to how badly I’m doing right now?”
Matt grimaced. “Never mind, then. The last thing we need is Moore getting naked.”
I laughed behind my beer bottle. “Yeah, God forbid. You might go blind.”
He chuckled and shuffled the cards. Oh, if the people in this room only knew.
“Are you guys talking about strip poker over there again?” Kristen looked at us from the other table.
“Maybe,” I said. “Any chance we could talk—”
“I am not playing strip poker with you two.”
“Wimp,” Matt said.
Kristen flipped him the bird over her shoulder.
He laughed. “All right, ante up, everyone.”
Reconstructing Meredith (Light Switch Book 2) Page 21
