by Claire Adams
He sucked in a breath as I trailed my fingers up his chest. I undid the top couple buttons on his shirt and pulled it messily over his head. We continued to make out for another couple minutes, as I scratched my fingernails lightly up his chest. For his part, he seemed content to let me do whatever I wanted for the time being, and it was a heady feeling, being in control of his pleasure. I remembered how well he had played me the previous time, and I figured it must be my turn.
After a moment, he pulled back, looking as though he was going to ask something. But before he could get the words out, I smiled demurely at him and dropped to my knees on the carpet.
“Jesus, Olivia,” he said, his voice hoarse and shocked.
“Is this okay?” I asked, pausing as I started to undo the button on his slacks.
He stared at me uncomprehendingly and then gave a strangled laugh. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, it's okay.”
I grinned and slowly unbuttoned his slacks, pulling down both them and his boxer briefs. Then, I slowly licked my lips, still looking up at him past the hard length of his cock. I leaned forward and licked experimentally at his tip, reveling in the soft groan that fell from the man's lips.
I dragged my tongue up the underside of his cock and lapped at the precum already collecting at the tip, tonguing the opening and smiling to myself as Eric's head fell back against the door with an audible thunk. Finally, deciding that I had teased him enough, I slid his full length into my mouth, going inch by inch. I was surprised at his patience: I could feel his thigh muscles quivering under my fingers, and I could tell how taxing it was for him to try to hold back and not thrust impatiently into my mouth.
Eric gently stroked my hair, not pushing but just resting there. His breathing was harsh, and it quickened further as I wrapped my fingers around his base, stroking in time with the movements of my mouth. I increased the pressure, sucking hard and squeezing with my hand, and he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.
“Wait,” he suddenly said, catching my shoulder. He let out a long, noisy breath, shaking his head a little. “That feels incredible, but I'm not going to last if you keep going. And what I'd really like is to make love to you again.”
I blushed, giving him a pleased, shy smile. I got slowly to my feet, biting my lower lip and looking up at him through my eyelashes as I slowly began to strip off my clothing. I left nothing on; I was naked as I made my way over to the bed. Eric rushed to catch up, leaving his own clothing in a messy pile on the floor even though such neglect would probably leave awful creases in his shirt.
He didn't seem to care, though, as he joined me on the bed, bringing a hand up to gently cup my cheek. He brushed back my hair, stroking the soft skin of my cheekbone with the rough pad of his thumb. “God, you're beautiful,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss me again. I shivered in anticipation, my legs falling open to him, inviting him in.
Eric's eyes went dark with lust, and his fingers dipped experimentally into the space between my legs. He growled, feeling how wet I already was. It didn't take much foreplay for me to be ready for him. He was still hard from my earlier ministrations as well, his cock arching between us, dark with need.
But then he paused, just staring down at me for a long moment, as though trying to memorize every detail of my body. “Eric,” I whined.
He grinned and shook himself, giving me an apologetic look. He suddenly reached out and grabbed me, pulling me into a rough, half-desperate kiss. It was heated and messy, his tongue slipping over mine and his teeth nipping at my lips. Slowly, though, he gentled the kiss, his lips moving tenderly against mine.
I heard the sound of a foil packet opening, and I pulled back so I could watch as he pulled a condom down his member. He bent my legs up and kissed the inside of one knee, making me squirm again against the sheets, needing more contact, needing something else. Eric hummed an acknowledgment and thrust into me all in one go, impaling me on his length.
I let out a whimpered moan, my hands creeping up against the headboard, using it as leverage so that I could push back against his thrusts, driving him ever deeper inside of me. His talented fingers continued to play across my skin, aimless patterns leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Every soft graze of his fingers against the soft skin of my nipples had me mewling and arching against him, the stimulation almost too much.
He leaned in for another scorching kiss, and that, coupled with his quick thrusts, was my undoing. I broke away with a gasp, turning my head to the side and squeezing my eyes shut, my entrance contracting with waves of blinding, sensational pleasure. I could feel Eric spilling inside of me as well, coming in perfect unison with me, collapsing around me on the bed.
We both just lay there for a moment, panting with the aftershocks. Finally, Eric rolled to the side. But he didn't go far. He lay there, turned on his side to face me, continuing to caress my skin, sending little prickles of pleasure through the hazy aftermath of my orgasm.
But he wasn't done with me yet. Instead, Eric got a devilish smirk on his face and slid his hand lower, sliding his fingers back into the warm, slick area of my crease and playing across the overstimulated nerves there. My breathing caught in my throat, and I was almost tempted to stop him, as I balanced on the edge of pleasure and too much, but ultimately, I allowed him to continue brushing his fingers across my skin in those talented, tantalizing strokes.
In an embarrassingly short while, I was coming again, practically sobbing with a much-needed release. As I finally dragged myself back to reality, it was to Eric smiling over at me, and I couldn't help but smile back at him.
Then, his expression turned serious.
“I'm enjoying our time together,” he told me.
“I'm sensing that there's a 'but,'” I said, wishing that he could have at least waited until we had clothes on before starting this conversation.
Sure, I knew that we needed to talk. About what we were doing, where we were going. About if this was going to keep happening, and where it was going to keep happening if it was. We couldn't keep sneaking around in motel rooms like wayward teenagers, but if we didn't want to raise the suspicions of everyone in town, this was the best way to ensure our privacy.
“But,” Eric agreed, nodding his head. He rolled away and looked up at the ceiling, folding his arms behind his head and looking deceptively casual. Still, I could see the tension in his form, and I frowned, wishing I could help him just relax. “I'm enjoying our time together, but I'm worried about how a relationship between us might affect both of our lives.”
I frowned, trying to figure out what he was trying to say. “Well, I'm not saying that we have to run around alerting everyone in town that we're sleeping together,” I said.
“There's also Emma to think about. And my professional relationship with your mother.” Eric ran a hand back through his hair, tousling it even more than the sex had. “For all we know, you could be headed back to Chicago sooner rather than later. I know you're mostly here because of your mom's health. In any case, I don't want to rush into anything.”
“Right, of course not,” I said, feeling a stab of disappointment. From the way he was talking about it, it sounded as though he was considering a relationship. But now it sounded like he wanted something that was just short-term, and just sex. I swallowed hard, hating the idea of that.
Of course, that's kind of the feeling that I'd gotten the previous time we'd slept together, given that he'd avoided seeing me from that night until after the next weekend. Clearly, he wasn't looking for me to be his girlfriend.
I gave a mental shrug. I'd take what I could get, I supposed. The sex was really good, and I didn't want to lose him. Plus, maybe if he had time to get used to me, and get used to the idea that I was sticking around for a while, maybe things would change between us.
What it really came down to was, I wasn't ready to make myself vulnerable yet by telling him that I wanted something more. Especially when it sounded like he wasn't prepared to give me something more.
&nbs
p; Eric frowned, his eyebrows knitting together, and I realized that I'd been silent for too long. But I wanted to hear what else he had to say, anyway. “I'd like to keep seeing you,” he said. “But more like this, with a few ground rules. Dinners in other towns. No staying over at one another's houses. I just want things to be pretty low-key so that word doesn't get around town that we're...” He trailed off, clearly not sure how to describe what exactly we were doing.
But I had the perfect word for it: fucking. We were just fucking. It might be tender and sweet, but it was all couched in the idea that this was going no further.
I really was his rebound. The thought almost amused me, or it would have if I hadn't been feeling so unsettlingly upset about this.
I forced a smile on my face. “I understand,” I told him. “I'm having a good time too, and I don't see a reason to put labels on this. It'll only stress us both out, won't it? Anyway, we're both a little too old to have designated fuck buddies.”
Eric looked taken aback, and I wondered whether he'd been expecting me to be upset about this. If he only knew.
“Right,” he said after a moment.
“So, you probably need to get back to Emma, don't you?” I asked, my voice overly bright, echoing around the motel room.
Eric stirred, as though I'd just brought him back to reality. “Right,” he said again. He climbed out of bed and started getting dressed, and after a moment, I did the same.
I couldn't help snickering. “Just like teenagers,” I commented.
Eric gave me a smile, but he looked distracted. Aside from a quick goodbye hug, we didn't interact further, even as we walked back to our cars. I got in and had to blink tears away from my eyes so that I could see the road ahead of me. His headlights disappeared in my rearview mirror.
Chapter Fifteen
Eric
It had been two weeks of hardly interacting with Olivia, and I was still at war with myself over what I wanted from my relationship with her. Our conversation on our last date had gone the way that I'd wanted it to go, I thought, at least insofar as I had been able to get out all the words that I'd been thinking. But I hadn't expected her to be so calm and clinical in her reaction. I wasn't the kind of guy to do the casual relationships thing. That had never been me before, and it definitely wasn't me now that Emma was in the picture.
I wanted something serious, or I didn't want anything at all. After all, there was no reason to change my life or to risk upsetting my daughter for something that wasn't meaningful. Besides, I'd come to care for Olivia, despite the fact that I'd only known her for a short time, and I wanted to see if the future had something more in store for the two of us.
But Olivia had treated our relationship as though it were some casual thing. As though that were a given. That worried me. And what's more, that confused me. I tried to figure it out logically, chalking it up to the difference between small town life and city life. Maybe, while I was looking to eventually settle down with whoever it was I ended up dating, and she was just looking for fun.
She just hadn't struck me as the kind of person who was just looking for fun. But then again, we had had sex on our first date; I supposed that said something about both of us.
Since that second date, things had been awkward between the two of us. We barely spoke when I stopped in the daycare to drop Emma off or pick her up. I had run into Olivia a couple of times around town as well, and those interactions didn't go any smoother. I just wasn't sure what to say to her anymore. The comfortable ease that we'd had before seemed to have evaporated like it was never there at all.
My desire for her hadn't lessened, but it was as though neither of us knew how to make the next move.
As though neither of us knows how, or as though neither of us is willing, said a snide voice inside my head.
And it didn't make things any easier, knowing that I had to talk to her about her mother once again. I sighed and drummed my fingers against Olivia's mock reception desk. “How have you been?” I asked.
Olivia's eyes narrowed minutely. “Fine,” she said. “You?”
“Fine,” I echoed. I paused. “How has your mom been?”
“She's fine,” Olivia said. “If you want to talk about her medical situation, you should probably call her and talk about it.”
I detected a hint of exasperation in her voice, but I wondered how much of that was directed at me for asking the question rather than her mom for not listening to her.
“I've tried to talk to her,” I told Olivia. “But she's not answering any of my calls.” I shook my head. “If we don't start chemo now, I'm afraid she may only have a year left. Maybe less.”
I hated having to say things so bluntly, and I could tell how upset I was making Olivia. She folded in on herself, and I could see the faintest traces of tears in her eyes. But when I reached for her, wanting to comfort her, she pulled away from me.
She cleared her throat. “Things may be difficult, and the outlook might not be good, but I haven't given up hope yet,” she said. “And I suggest that you don't either.”
“I'm not giving up hope,” I said, feeling irritated that she would even think that. “I'm just saying that based on the last round of tests we ran, the prognosis is starting to look worse every day.”
Olivia nodded curtly at me, but she didn't say another word about it. Finally, I sighed and shook my head. I wanted her to help me out, but I guessed I had to find some other way to convince Jeannie to listen to me. I was at a loss for what that might be, as much as I was at a loss for what the next step was for Olivia and me. But I had to figure it out on my own.
“Well, I'll see you tomorrow morning,” I said to Olivia, bending down so that I could scoop up Emma.
As we were driving home, Emma started crying, for no reason that I could discern. I winced and pulled up outside Ernie's Diner; there was no way I was going to try to handle a crying toddler's temper tantrum and cook dinner at the same time. I didn't have the patience that evening; I had felt worn out ever since that second date with Olivia. Thinking of her kept me up at night, and I wasn't sleeping very well.
“Hey, sweetie, want a milkshake?” I asked Emma as I went around to her door. I knew that wasn't proper nutrition for her, but if I could just convince her to quit crying, even if I were bribing her, it would be worth it. Sure enough, Emma reached up and dried her eyes and then solemnly held out her arms so that I could scoop her up out of her car seat.
The diner was busy with the usual dinner crowd, but Emma and I managed to snag a table for two in the corner, and Ernie brought over a high chair. “Haven't seen you in here in a while,” Ernie commented as he waited to take our orders. That was one of the things that I liked about Ernie, despite all his gossiping: he genuinely made everyone feel welcome there by engaging them in conversation, even if he was busy at the time.
Of course, that was probably just a tactic so that he could get the latest scoop.
I smiled a little and shook my head. “Things have been busy lately,” I said. It was a lie: my days consisted of dropping Emma off at daycare, seeing my patients, and feeding us both in the evenings. On weekends, Helen and Emma had been taking more trips together, which left me with unexpected pockets of free time. I had a feeling Helen suspected that something might have happened with Olivia and me, after I'd let slip that the two of us had gone on a date, although she never said anything direct about it.
But I wasn't spending those free hours with Olivia. Instead, I was spending them alone with my thoughts, trying to remember what hobbies I'd had before I became a dad.
“How is darling Miss Emma doing tonight?” Ernie asked jovially. “All ready for a strawberry banana shake?”
Emma laughed and clapped her hands together, her earlier tears gone. I couldn't help smiling as well. At least she was happy, regardless of what might or might not be going on between me and Olivia. It was all the more reason not to rush into things with her. I didn't want Emma's whole world to be shaken up again, to the point wh
ere she had to relearn how to laugh all over again. The past two years had been difficult enough for her.
The front door swung open as Ernie went back behind the counter, and none other than Georgia walked in. I groaned, hardly believing my luck. Of all the nights of the week, why did she have to be here tonight?
Her eyes scanned the diner, looking for an empty seat. True to form, she came over and dropped into the empty seat at our table, not bothering to ask if it was all right. I suddenly had the irrational wish that Emma was old enough to sit in a proper seat, rather than requiring a high chair.
“So good to see you, Dr. Jones,” Georgia said silkily. “You've been busy lately; you aren't returning my calls.”
“If you want to schedule an appointment, you need to call me on my work phone; you know the drill,” I told her. I actually hadn't listened to any of her voicemails. I assumed if there were something seriously wrong with her, she'd come find me in person. Or find another doctor. I could only dream.
“You silly,” Georgia said, laying a hand on my arm. “I'm not interested in booking an appointment with you.”
“Your shoulder is feeling better?” I asked sarcastically.
“Loads better,” Georgia said, flashing her teeth at me. “I was just wondering how things were going. I know life as a single parent can't be the easiest.”
“Unless you're volunteering to babysit Emma on one of Nana's nights off, you should stop right there,” I cautioned her.”
Georgia frowned and took a sip of my water. “Isn't that what Olivia is for?” she asked.
“Olivia is Emma's daycare provider,” I said. “Emphasis on the day part of daycare.”
Georgia giggled. “So I assume if I wanted you to take me out on a date, it would have to be on one of the nights when Nana could watch Emma?” she asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Georgia, we've been over this before,” I hissed, hoping no one else could overhear us in the crowded diner. “I'm not interested in dating you. Now please, just let it be.”
