The Art of Moving On (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Sarah Raymond

  “Oh Sammie, that’s great! I am so excited for you.” Casey thought a moment, reveling in the good fortune they were having lately. Maybe things truly were getting better. It was as if the universe just wanted Casey to be happy. “I think this calls for a celebration. I am going to take you to dinner tonight. I know the perfect place, so make sure to dress fancy. I am going to call Conor and accept his offer,” Casey said, suddenly excited to hear his voice. She hadn’t seen him much over the last week. She had been busy writing for the magazine, and he had been busy acquiring even more wealth than he already had. They had talked on the phone and sent numerous text messages, but it was not as good as the real thing. She hungered for him.

  “Why don’t you ask him to come along?” Sammie asked to Casey’s surprise.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind? I don’t want you to feel like the third wheel or anything,” Casey replied.

  “Well, as long as you aren’t blowing him at the table, it shouldn’t be a problem. After all, I would like to thank him for being so generous. With the raging hormones and constant random pains, I could not take much more apartment searching. He saved me from burning down a building or two.”

  Casey laughed and agreed to invite him. She hoped that he would be free to go…he could be her dessert. When she dialed his number, he picked up after a single ring.

  “Hello, gorgeous.” Chills ran through her body.

  “Hello yourself! Hey, listen, Sammie and I have decided to take you up on your offer, if it still stands. Though I think that you are crazy to rent out that gorgeous apartment for so cheap, I will agree to your terms if you agree to dinner with us this evening.”

  “Of course the offer still stands, love. And supper with two gorgeous women this eve sounds amazin’. What time were ya thinkin’?”

  “Meet us at Smith and Wollensky—Back Bay at 7:30?” She had never been to that restaurant before, but had heard nothing but positive things about it. She was sure that it was way more than what she could afford, but certain days needed special celebrations. Conor agreed, with a promise to see her there.

  At about 7 p.m., a very dolled-up couple of friends stepped out onto the sidewalk. They decided that walking to the T was going to be too much work in heels, so they had full intentions of hailing a cab. Casey did not notice the sleek black car parked in front of their building, until a driver emerged and stood in front of them.

  “Ms. Dwyer? My name is Frederick, Mr. M’Cullagh’s personal driver. He instructed me to pick you up and transport you and your friend to dinner. Will this be acceptable?”

  He was a polite boy—he could not have been more than about 25 years old. His skin was light, almost exactly matching the color of the Mocha Lattes at Casey’s favorite coffee shop. He was an elegant-looking young man, which is something that she would expect in a driver for Conor. She looked at Sammie who mouthed, “A driver?”

  Casey shrugged and turned back to the man, saying, “Why not?” It was all very Sex and the City.

  When they arrived at the restaurant, it was almost exactly 7:30. Casey was relieved that they had not gotten there late, though she was hoping to arrive before Conor so that he would not be sitting alone at a table.

  They thanked the young driver and got out of the car. As they entered the restaurant, Casey noted the elegance of the establishment. The lighting was soft, and the scent of various plates invaded her senses. Her mouth began to water. At the hostess stand, the girls were informed that their table was ready, and their dates were already seated. Dates plural? Casey and Sammie glanced quickly at one another, and then followed the hostess to their table.

  The man seated next to Conor was very good looking, with masculine features and a chiseled jawbone. His skin was a shade darker than Conor’s, almost an olive color, and his hair was jet black, suggesting that he had some Italian somewhere in his heritage. When the men spotted Casey and Sammie, they rose to greet them. Conor went out of his way to come around the table and embrace Casey. After a quick kiss and a “good evenin’ love,” he returned to his seat.

  “Casey, Samantha, this is me friend and colleague Giovanni Torino, or Gio for short.” Yep, definitely Italian. It was strange hearing Conor pronounce such an Italian name with his thick Irish accent.

  “Nice to meet you. I am Casey, and this is my best friend Sammie.”

  “How do you do,” Gio said as he extended a hand to Casey. When he turned to greet Sammie, she stood frozen, her mouth open. Casey gave her a little nudge to bring her back to reality.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, extending a hand to the fascinating man before her. “Samantha Williams. Nice to meet you, Giovanni.” Sammie and Giovanni held their gaze on one another for a moment, still hand in hand. Casey and Conor glanced at each other and smiled.

  “Shall we sit?” Conor interrupted.

  After a rather expensive wine selection on Conor’s behalf, it became clear that there was no way he was going to allow Casey to pay for their dinner, especially since he had invited a guest along. Though it was a bold move on his behalf, Sammie and Gio were thoroughly enjoying each other’s company. When the wine arrived, a very sophisticated waiter poured each of them a glass, with the exception of Sammie, who selected a large glass of iced tea instead.

  Casey raised her glass. “I would like to propose a toast to Conor. He has graciously offered his amazing rental apartment to Sammie and I for a very reasonable price, which saved us from having to raise our little family in a one-bedroom one-bath walk-up. So thank you.” She leaned over to quickly brush her lips against his, and the four of them took a sip to celebrate the toast.

  Giovanni, obviously confused by the “little family” bit, asked, “Oh, I did not realize that you were expecting, Casey.” Nearly choking on her wine, Casey coughed profusely. His statement had caught her completely off-guard. Why would he think that she was the one who was pregnant?

  “She is not pregnant, I am,” Sammie interjected, her voice trailing off at the end. She was likely worried that admitting her situation would end any interest that Giovanni may have in her. However, the look on his face said quite the opposite.

  “Oh, I apologize. That must be what is making your radiant face glow in such a way.” Sammie blushed. “How far along are you?”

  Now, obviously very into one another, Sammie and Giovanni continued their conversation about her pregnancy, ignoring the fact that Conor and Casey were present at all. Casey was overjoyed that her best friend was in the company of a man. She understood that it must be hard being pregnant with no affection in her life, constantly watching Casey leave to visit Conor only to return with mussed up hair and a wide smile of satisfaction stretching across her face. Casey turned to Conor, mouthing “thank you” to him. He nodded slightly, flashing those perfect white teeth of his.

  The dinner went on, and Casey felt ecstatic. She learned a little about Giovanni, but throughout most of the meal, he was focused on Sammie. Her choice plate had been delicious, and everyone else’s meals had looked delectable also. She gabbed on with Conor about various things, but spent the majority of the dinner working out details for the apartment. She had chosen to move in at the end of the week, though Conor had told her she could start moving in whenever was convenient. He had also insisted that she pay no deposit, and the bills were included in the rent. Though it frustrated her to no end, he made her agree to the terms. Casey wondered if he was like this with all the girls he had dated, or just her? Was he a generally generous man? It sure seemed that way when, at the end of the dinner, he grabbed the bill before anyone else had even seen the waiter place it on the table. Giovanni detested, trying to pry the bill from Conor’s fingers. Casey also offered, but was not surprised when Conor gave her a “no way in hell” kind of look.

  When Conor finally won the battle for the bill, they all thanked him. He rose from the table and stretched out his hand to help Casey from her chair. Giovanni did the same for Sammie, and the four of them left the restaurant.

  “Any
body up for an after-dinner drink? Maybe another iced tea, Samantha?” asked Conor. Though she felt bad about it, Casey hoped that Sammie and Gio would go on home. She wanted alone time with Conor, and she did not want to wait for it.

  “I’m actually very tired,” Sammie replied to her relief. “I am just going to catch a cab and head home.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll have me driver take ya,” said Conor. Always the gentleman, thought Casey.

  “I will escort you if you would like,” Giovanni said, lighting Sammie’s face completely, turning that pregnancy glow into an “I might finally get laid” glow.

  “Sure!” she responded excitedly.

  When the two had gotten into Conor’s car, he turned to Casey and asked, “Walk with me?” She agreed, and the two sort-of couples started off in opposite directions.

  “Let’s go over to your new apartment so that ya can get another feel for it. I suspect that ya didn’t take it into much account, frettin’ over the fact that ya could never afford it.”

  Casey agreed, not surprised that he could read her thoughts so well. It seemed so strange that they knew so little about one another, but at the same time, she felt that they had been together for years.

  They walked down the street a ways, chatting about Sammie and Giovanni. After a while, Conor suggested that they grab a cab, because there was a slight chill in the air. Casey suggested that they just take the T-line, but Conor refused, telling her that he hated the T. He said, “Boston is so beautiful—there’s no reason to ignore its beauty. Travelin’ underground almost seems criminal.” Though Casey loved riding the T, she found logic in his distaste. Boston truly was a majestic city.

  When a bright cab crept by them, Conor whistled loudly, and held the door as she climbed into the warmth of the space. They started off in the direction of her and Sammie’s new home. When they were on their way, Conor told her of his home in the Irish countryside. He said that he mostly stayed away from the big cities, and would rather travel on foot or by car no matter where he was. Casey was delighted to learn this little bit of information about Conor’s home. From his description, she envisioned rolling hills carpeted with various shades of green. She imagined sheep grazing lazily as the sun rose and fell. She imagined the two of them walking along a deserted road, her hand resting comfortably in his.

  When they reached the apartment, and Conor had given the driver his fare, they got out of the cab and a strong whiff of the ocean blasted Casey’s senses. She inhaled deeply, unable to believe that from now on, she would enjoy that briny scent every day.

  “Ya really do have a love of the ocean, do ya not?”

  Casey decided that since Conor had told her a little about his home, it was only fair to share a bit more about where she came from. “The small town in Texas where I grew up is land-locked. I grew up smelling nothing but dirt and cotton. It was miserable. I didn’t get to enjoy the sea until I was nearly twenty, and I fell in love instantly.”

  They began the ascent to the apartment, and Conor unlocked the door to let her in. He flipped on the switch, and Casey gasped at how beautiful the space looked at night. Immediately drawn to that gorgeous balcony, Casey crossed over to the door and went outside. The view from “her” balcony was even more amazing beneath the stars. She would never get tired of seeing the city from this view.

  “Have you ever been to Texas?” she asked.

  “No, love, I’ve never had the pleasure. I hear people wear cowboy hats and ride horses in big cities though. That true?” Casey laughed at this, as it was a common misconception that many people had about Texans. Though the massive state was riddled with ranchers and farmers, there were places that weren’t so old-fashioned.

  “Well, the smaller towns do have a lot of horses, and there are a lot of cowboy hats, but the larger cities aren’t so hillbilly.”

  “And your town was a small one, then?”

  “It was pretty small. Most everyone knew one another. And the town thrived on farming, football, and Jesus,” she said, recounting the fame of rugged jocks in letter jackets. It was no surprise that Sammie had gotten knocked up by one of the jocks.

  “So were ya a cowgirl, love?”

  “Um, no,” she replied bluntly. She had never been put into that category. Never hoped to be.

  Conor smiled, a “damn” escaping his lips. She had obviously just killed one of his fantasies. He came close to her, wrapping those muscled arms around the small of her back.

  “Well it sounds nice. Maybe ya can take me there sometime?” Casey’s heart raced at the thought of taking such a sophisticated and elegant man back to her po-dunk hometown, where everyone knew everyone, and her secret would be exposed before they even reached the center of town.

  “I don’t think I will ever go back there,” she replied with a satisfied certainty.

  “But don’t ya miss your family? Your friends?” Conor was obviously astounded by this lack of desire to be around her family, but honestly, she really had nobody left.

  “The only family that I have is my dad, and we never were very close. As for friends, well, Sammie is my friend. You are my friend. I have no reason to ever go back, nor do I want to.” To avoid going any deeper into that conversation, Casey grabbed Conor by his shirt collar, and pulled his lips no more than an inch from hers. “Now shut up and fuck me,” she said lustfully.

  At that, he crushed his pillowy lips to hers, feeding her growing arousal. He wasted no time diving his hand into her silk panties, rubbing her moisture all around her shaved flesh. He moaned his appreciation of her slick folds, and pressed his stiff, rigid shaft against her thigh. He undulated his hips slowly as he kissed her and petted her warmth. Unable to fight the sudden urge to taste him, Casey pulled away and bent to unzip his jeans. His erection sprang forward, and Casey was once again thankful that he did not wear underwear—something about that was so incredibly sexy. It was almost animalistic, as if Conor wanted the least amount of clothing between his cock and fresh air. He wanted to be nude, but was forced to wear clothing. She would walk around nude with him all day if they could.

  Taking his penis in her hand, she stroked as she stared at the straining head. She licked her lips, aching to devour the small bead that had formed at the tip. She had never been much into oral sex when she was with Jace, or even before him. With Conor, that was a completely different story. She craved his length as if she had been starved. She tilted her head back to watch his face as she slowly ran her tongue along the small slit on his blunt end. To her delight, he inhaled sharply, an airy “Yes!” the only thing he could get out.

  She continued to tease him, tonguing his tip and stroking his shaft until he begged her to swallow his length. “I want to be deep inside your throat, love. Swallow me.” Conor was so full of manners and so sophisticated, but when it came to their sex life, he was a rugged brute. He used the crude words that she longed to hear, and he was forceful in a way that made Casey weak in the knees.

  Noticing the dark-purple shade of his tip, and the heaviness of his aching sack, Casey obeyed. She swallowed his entire length, and he bit out a few choice curse words that she was unfamiliar with. His Irish blood made him somewhat exotic and turned up the heat on Casey’s arousal by hundreds of degrees.

  She worked him good, sucking and swallowing him over and over. She groped his testicles, making sure to take breaks from his shaft to flick her tongue against the velvet flesh. She pushed him gently against the wall of the balcony so that she could get better control of the depth of her throat he was invading. Pumping him with her lips and teasing with her tongue, Casey could feel that he was about to come.

  Without any words, but rather growls and moans, Conner exploded in Casey’s mouth. She felt jets of steamy seed sliding down her throat, and the sensation made her wet through her panties. Conor gently removed himself from between her lips and looked down at her. He laughed loudly and said, “Ya have a very talented mouth love. I could get used to ya wrappin’ those lips around me.” His accent s
eemed harsher when he was freshly satisfied. “Now how about that fantasy of yours?”

  Casey was surprised he remembered that. Though it wasn’t long ago, she did not feel that after fulfilling his deepest fantasy, hers would seem relevant. Apparently, he had not forgotten, and intended to plow into her right there on her new balcony.

  “Yes please,” she responded. What the hell, right? The house needed christening anyway.

  In response, his erection strained once again. It was apparent that he hungered for her as she did him. In a flash he pulled her up from her knees, sending his hand south again to assess her moisture. Feeling the outside of her panties, he smiled seductively at how she had soaked through them. “That’s a good girl.” He gave the silk a yank, and the underwear tore from her body. The pulling of the thong in her ass was a more pleasant sensation than she would have thought. Conor tossed the shredded silk aside and sat her on the ledge of the balcony.

  The sensation of fear mixed with arousal was odd, but Casey quickly forgot that she could easily fall to her death, only to be exposed naked in front of passersby on the street below. She felt safe with Conor, and she knew in her heart that he would not let her fall. He lifted her skirt and ran two fingers along the sides of her clitoris. He spread her lips wide and peered at the glistening flesh below. Without removing his fingers, he kneeled before her, flicking his tongue against her pink skin. The warmth of his breath on the sensitive area was almost too much to handle.

  He stopped for a moment only to say, “I love the way ya taste. Ya are like heaven in my mouth.” He then went back to work, running his tongue all over her dripping sex. When she was beginning her ascent to climax, she pulled his chiseled jaw from her flesh, stopping him abruptly.

  “Fuck me. Fuck me now!” she commanded.