Coalescence

by J. C. Hannigan

  “No.” I bit my lip, shaking my head with amusement. “Usually, shower sex is rather anti-climactic.”

  Alaric’s brow lifted, and he moved closer to me. A dangerous smile on his lips. “Did you find that anti-climactic?” he asked, his hand palming my breast. I shivered, and not just because the hot water had started to run out.

  “Quite the opposite, actually. I found it very climactic,” I said, my jaw trembling slightly. Noticing the cold water, Alaric switched the taps off. I threw open the shower curtain and reached for a towel. “Then again, you’re strong enough to support all of my weight while still fucking like a porn star, so I’d say you’re the exception, not the rule.”

  He chuckled lowly. “You must have been with some uncreative partners.”

  I snorted. “You don’t know the half of it,” I said ominously, stepping from the shower and wrapping the towel around me.

  He followed, twisting a towel around his waist. His eyes never left mine, and tension crackled between us. His pecs flexed under my scrutiny, and he grinned dangerously. “There are many ways we can fuck in that shower, Gwen. I’d be happy to show you all of them.” He capped this offer by flexing his pecs.

  “Maybe when the hot water tank refills,” I said, a little breathlessly.

  “Yeah,” Alaric agreed. He shook his head as if coming to his senses. “Besides, it’s getting late. I should go.”

  “Oh, right,” I said, my words coming out as jumbled as my thoughts. I clenched my towel closer and moved to the counter to grab my glasses. Putting them on, I could see him in the mirror from the corner of my eye, watching me, so I smiled and met his gaze. “Well, thanks for stopping by.”

  He leaned forward to pick up his jeans, his face right beside my thigh. I could feel his perusal, his eyes roaming my body like he wasn’t quite sated yet. Straightening, Alaric moved behind me, pressing his cock against my ass. My towel fell open on its own accord, slipping between us. “It was my pleasure,” he told me, grinning as he watched me in the mirror.

  It seemed inconceivable that we could want each other again, but the look in his fevered eyes matched mine as he ran his free hand down the length of my body, over each curve.

  No matter what, he was going to leave me wanting.

  Alaric

  I took a deep breath, watching as she trembled beneath my touch. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she sighed, her lips curling into a smile. “How are you already this hard again?” she asked as my cock jumped against her ass.

  I tugged her against me, my fingers falling between her legs, cupping her. The pads of my fingers stroked against her sex. Bringing my lips to her earlobe, I spoke quietly. “How are you this wet again?” I countered, smirking as we made eye contact in the mirror.

  She shuddered as my finger sank inside her and turned her face to look at me. I dropped my jeans and brought my right hand to stroke along the smooth, delicate column of her neck.

  Gwen turned, her breasts brushing against my chest as her lips slanted against mine. She nipped at my lower lip as I hoisted her up, plopping her down on the counter and stepping between her legs.

  “I thought you said you had to go?” Gwen asked, her nose scrunching a little as she smiled.

  “I can spare a few more minutes,” I told her, selfishly prolonging the inevitable. I wasn’t looking forward to the silence of my empty house, especially not after a weekend having both Sawyer and my mom around.

  I knew the moment that I left, everything that drove me here in the first place would come back at me like a freight train.

  She brought her hands up to cup my face, pressing her lips to mine, and arched against me. Her lips and tongue moved almost desperately against mine. I shifted, my crown brushing against her entrance, and shivered in response to the urge I felt to drive forward.

  Gwen’s eyes fluttered open, and she pulled away, her eyes searching mine again. I don’t know what she saw there, but she took a shaky breath and gave me a willing smile. “Is this what you’re looking for?” she asked, one of her hands dropping to reach the foil wrapper beside her.

  My cock throbbed against her slick entrance in response. “Can you handle another round?”

  “Can I?” She arched a brow, challenging me, and ripped the wrapper open with her teeth. She looked so incredibly sexy that I couldn’t help but press against her a little.

  It was closer than I’d gotten to someone in years, and that should have scared me into leaving—but I was no longer thinking with my head.

  She trembled, and I backed off a little, my restraint tested enough. Gwen rolled on the condom, guiding it down my thick length.

  I lifted her, entering in one fluid motion. She leaned back, her wet hair spilling over her shoulders.

  She felt a little swollen, so I moved gently, taking my time, watching her face to make sure I wasn’t hurting her. Her eyes were dark with desire, and she grew wetter with each thrust.

  I licked my fingers and played with her clit. Gwen dropped her head back and moaned softly, and sensing that she was close, I picked up the pace a little. Her legs trembled as she came.

  Spurred on by her orgasm, I fucked her harder. My hips jutted forward with powerful strokes as I sought to bury myself in her. My balls tightened, the pressure building as I slammed my hips forward once more.

  The last thrust did it for her again too, and she moaned before letting out a pained yelp.

  I pulled out quickly, concern etching my face. “Fuck, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a leg cramp.” She laughed, rubbing at her calf. I took over, working the muscle with my hands. A few moments later, she let out a sigh of relief, and I felt the muscle release. “Thanks,” she said, appreciatively. “For the coitus and the massage.”

  “Any time.” I winked, peeling the condom off and tossing it in the trash before offering her my hand. She took it and slid off the bathroom counter. She leaned forward to pick her towel up, wrapping it around her body. When she straightened, she gripped the counter, and it slipped forward.

  “Shit,” she said, her brow furrowing as she wiggled it again. We’d managed to loosen the counter from the wall.

  “I’ll fix it,” I offered sheepishly.

  “You don’t have to,” she said quickly. “My landlord can do it. It’s his job, after all…” Lost in thought, she worried her bottom lip.

  “It’s not a big deal. I have all the stuff to do it at my place.” I scooped my jeans off the floor and straightened. “I’ll bring them next time you text me begging for my cock,” I added with a smirk.

  She laughed. “All right, fine. Whatever.”

  “Whatever?” I prodded teasingly.

  “I’m tired, and my brain doesn’t exactly work during this time of post-orgasmic bliss. If you want to fix my counter, who am I to stop you?” She shrugged, leaving the bathroom and heading for her room.

  My socks were on the floor in front of her nightstand, so I followed her in. She was pulling on a pair of sleep shorts. I reached for the socks, jumping back when a gray paw shot out and swiped at my hand.

  Gwen’s cat had hidden under the bed and didn’t seem impressed with my close proximity to him. He let out a low hiss. “Dahmer, don’t be a dick,” Gwen ordered, her lips twitching with a bemused smile.

  I reached again, managing to get them without the cat trying to scratch me, but he continued his low growling until I backed away.

  Gwen walked me to the door, pausing to pick up my shirt and toss it to me.

  I caught it, pulling it over my head. I put my boots on and stood, watching while she opened the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe.” She smiled.

  “Maybe,” I repeated, the corner of my lip tugging into a half-smile as I moved past her. I hesitated, my hands twitching at my sides with the urge to touch her. I resisted. I nodded, forcing my legs to move forward.

  I didn’t let myself look back, either. Not even when I heard the soft click of her door closing.

  14
>
  Defined…Sorta

  Gwen

  I had a difficult time getting up for work Monday morning after I’d spent half the night tossing and turning, pressing a finger to my lips every so often as I relived every kiss, every sigh. It hadn’t made for a restful night.

  And I hated myself for it, for already catching feelings, but really…he was to blame. He wasn’t supposed to be this…perfect. He was everything I never knew I wanted, and he made me feel things so intensely.

  As much as I tried to fool myself into thinking that there was something in his gaze, in his touch, I knew these feelings were likely one-sided. My blessing and my curse was an active imagination, and I was well aware of my tendency to get ahead of myself.

  So, I’d resolved to distance myself, just a little. Until Wednesday, at least. Or maybe Tuesday. After reaching that conclusion, I finally fell asleep, but that was around two thirty in the morning, and suffice to say, I wasn’t exactly wide-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning.

  I was walking with my head down, looking at the stack of papers in my hands as I walked back to my desk from the copier.

  “Morning, Gwen,” Dad said cheerfully as he strolled through the office.

  I jumped a little, startled. I hadn’t heard the door open, I’d been so lost in my muddled thoughts. “Hey, Dad.”

  “You look tired, are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I assured him, smiling. “What do you need?” Dad didn’t typically make social calls, so if he was coming into the office, it was work related.

  “I need you to make up a newsletter about the Canada Day barbeque and send it out to all employees. It’s in two more weeks.”

  “Oh, right.” I nodded, having completely forgotten about the annual barbeque. Normally, I’d have sent the newsletter out by now. “I’ll get that done today.”

  “Excellent. And give Grant Hernandez a call. I need him to come in sometime this week to look over the blueprints for the ravine condo project.”

  “What happened to George? I thought he was the engineer for this project.” I frowned, confused.

  “George has fucked up on the blueprints twice now, I need Grant. Get him here, okay?”

  “Of course,” I said, jotting down a note on the pad of post-it notes on my desk.

  “One more thing,” Dad said, sending me an apologetic smile. “Your mom expects you at dinner Friday night.”

  “Ugh, but I came over last week,” I muttered, scowling. Dad arched a brow, wounded. “Come on Dad, every time I’m around her she makes me feel like a spinster for still being single, and then she starts listing off every available bachelor that she knows.”

  “Your mother just wants to see you happy,” Dad said sternly, walking toward my desk and coming to a stop in front of it. His pewter eyes sparkled with amusement.

  “Who says I need a man to be happy?” I frowned, crossing my arms. “Erik certainly didn’t make me happy.”

  “Erik wasn’t really a man,” Dad responded, his eyes darkening with a smidgen of anger. He’d been pretty pissed when Erik had left me, thus crushing my spirit and heart, and he’d never been a fan of my ex-boyfriend. I pity the fool that truly raised a hand to hurt either Kelsey or me; they’d meet Dad’s wrath and then some. “Besides, you don’t want her to chase you down, do you?”

  “Nope, I wouldn’t want that.” I sighed. “I’ll be there.”

  “Great.” Dad grinned, tapping my desk once with his knuckle before turning and heading back into the shop.

  Alone again, I heaved an Oscar-worthy sigh and sank into my chair. I flipped through the business card carousel for Grant’s information. Finding it, I picked up the phone and dialed the number.

  “Grant speaking. What can I do for you?”

  “Morning Grant. It’s Gwen from Williams’ Tech. Russell needs you to come in sometime this week to go over the blueprints for the ravine condo project.”

  “I thought George was on that project?”

  “Russell needs it done right, and he needs it done now,” I replied. “Can you do it?”

  “Of course,” he said, pausing. I heard shuffling before he spoke again. “I’ll be in the area between eleven and one. I’ll stop by then.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Have a great day.” I placed the phone on the cradle.

  With one thing crossed off my to-do list for the day, I started on the next task; the newsletter about the barbeque. I liked to make my job as easy as possible, so I opened last year’s newsletter and started changing things around to include the proper information for this year.

  A few hours later, the bell above the office door chimed, and I looked up from my computer screen as Grant Hernandez strolled in.

  He walked purposefully over to my desk with a charming smile on his handsome face, his dark eyes taking me in with appreciation.

  Grant was an attractive guy with dark eyes and hair, and beautifully tanned skin, but he was also one of the guys who knew how good looking he was.

  At twenty-eight, he’d begun to make a name for himself in the construction industry as one of the top architectural engineers. He was always charming when he came in, if not a little flirtatious.

  “Good afternoon,” I greeted him with a professional smile, ignoring the interest in his perusal as I pressed a button on the phone that connected me with the shop. Grant was a known flirt, and I’d long since grown unresponsive to his charms. Besides, I had enough man problems. “Russell, Grant is here to see you.”

  It had taken me a while to get used to addressing my father by his first name at work, but now it barely phased me.

  “Looking as gorgeous as ever, Gwen,” Grant said, taking my hand and shaking it. I arched a brow when he held on a moment longer than necessary and tugged it from his grip. He winked and leaned forward. “I heard a rumour you were single.”

  “Ha,” I said dryly, my eyes narrowing. “What’s it to you?”

  “I happen to be single, too,” he informed me, his eyes still on me.

  “Good for you,” I said dryly, my smile growing a little colder. I heard the connecting door open, but I didn’t bother looking up. I knew it was probably my dad.

  “Let me take you out sometime,” he offered, his teeth flashing as his smile deepened. “I know a great restaurant near the lake.”

  Dad cleared his throat, saving me from having to reply. “Grant. I’ve got the blueprints in my office if you’ll follow me. Gwen, why don’t you take that lunch break?”

  I already had my lunch break, but I didn’t bother to argue with him about it. I’d take a second one. Nodding, I grabbed my purse and smiled politely at Grant before moving around my desk.

  I glanced over my shoulder as I opened the door. Grant’s head was turned, and he was still watching me with a smarmy grin that held none of the warmth of Alaric’s smiles.

  When I returned to my desk twenty minutes later, Grant’s business card was on it, only he’d also added his personal number and urged me to call him.

  I stared at it for a few moments before tossing it into the wastebasket beside my desk.

  Despite the many well-rounded excuses that I easily conjured in my mind, I managed to make it through the day without texting Alaric.

  My self-restraint was pretty good—for someone so weak and susceptible to giving in. A slight breeze could have sent me spiraling in his direction, and I would have gone happily. Skipping, even. But thankfully, our paths didn’t cross. If I had to look directly into his blue eyes, I was afraid I’d be forced to face the truth.

  That I most definitely was suffering from the feels. I’d thrown out Grant’s number without a second thought. I had no desire to hang onto his number just in case. I knew that nothing and nobody would compare to the welder that rolled so suddenly into my life like a summer storm.

  Sighing, I kicked off my heels and let my purse fall to the ground with an audible thud. Strolling down the hall to my bedroom, I tugged down the zipper of my skirt.

  Crossing th
e threshold into my room, I tossed my work clothes into the hamper and went to my dresser, pulling out a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. Casual enough that I’d be comfortable, but just dressy enough that if someone—like, say, Alaric—happened to stop by, I’d still look cute.

  Usually, I changed within moments of arriving home—and not just because I preferred to be comfortable. Dahmer was known to wreak havoc on any material in sight with his claws, and his fur got everywhere.

  I’d lost many of nice clothes when he’d jumped on my lap for snuggles, as he’d always end up digging his claws into the material when he finally hopped off.

  While I’d gotten Dahmer fixed as soon as he was old enough, I’d opted to skip out on declawing him. I was convinced it was inhumane. Instead, I just bought a scratching post and hoped for the best. So long as I made sure to keep my closet door closed, changed when I got home and gave him the attention he craved, we were good.

  Dahmer meowed from the slipper chair in the corner of my room, where he preferred to spend his days. “To be a cat,” I muttered, shaking my head as I watched him stretch leisurely. He meowed again, his green eyes watching me in a way I didn’t quite trust. He was full of pent-up energy, and if he didn’t burn it off, he’d get mean. “Come on then,” I sighed, turning and leaving my room, snatching the tiny laser beam from the top of my dresser.

  It was one of Dahmer’s favourite activities, and one of the easiest ways to work off some energy. I heard him jump down, his steps audible on the laminate flooring as he trailed after me.

  I grabbed my phone from my purse before I sat down on the couch, just to have it nearby. Flicking the laser beam on, I pointed it on the floor in front of the furry terror. He lurched into action, chasing the little red beam of light wherever I directed it. I tried to keep my focus on him and not my phone, which sat silently beside me, with nary a message.