Better Love

by Daisy Prescott

  “Oh, we’re not a couple. Just friends.” My words earned an odd look from Roslyn followed by her stepping away from me.

  “I shouldn’t have assumed. My apologies.” The other woman patted Roslyn’s arm. “All the good ones are always married or gay. It was the same when I was young. Only back then we called them lifetime bachelors. Things have changed a lot over the years, but I remember going to a secret place on Capitol Hill to see the drag queens. Oh, those ladies knew a thing or two about makeup. You’d make a terrible drag queen with that beard.”

  Lilac Lady wasn’t the first to make that assumption about me. A forty-something man who’d never married? People jumped to interesting conclusions all the time. I let them. Because it was easier than explaining the truth.

  When I wanted to escape a conversation, I created a distraction. Pulling out my phone, I gave both women an apologetic look.

  Roslyn elbowed me, which I ignored as I grinned at my screen like I was reading a sexy message from my lover.

  “Have a good evening,” Lilac Lady said as she exited on her floor.

  As soon as the doors closed, an elbow jabbed my side again.

  “What?” I shimmied out of the way. Given the limited space inside the elevator, I didn’t have much room to escape.

  “First, you totally faked getting a text. And badly. You didn’t even open anything beyond your home screen.”

  “Seemed to do the trick. Did you really want her to continue talking about drag queens?”

  “Were you mad she didn’t think you’re pretty enough to make a good drag queen?”

  Thankfully the doors slid open and we made our way to her door.

  Ignoring her teasing, I asked, “What was the second part?”

  She glanced over her shoulder when we reached her door. “Just friends? I’m not inviting you up here for a late night coffee. In case that wasn’t clear.”

  I blinked a few times as her words sank in. “No?”

  “Nope. I can’t drink caffeine after five anymore. Where did you get that idea?”

  Was she kidding? Had I misunderstood her? “At Willie. You referred to me as your friend.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t remember friend-zoning you.”

  I mirrored her expression. “You said something and followed it up with ‘my friend.’ What else am I supposed to think?”

  “It’s a common saying. Like calling you Asshat Ashland. Or you referring to me as Miss Porter like I’m an old spinster school mistress.”

  I relaxed my face and resumed my normal semi-scowl. “You think that’s how I imagine you?”

  She nodded. “A tight bun, collar up to my chin, and the Sahara Desert below the waist. Devoted solely to my career.” Her small smile disappeared.

  I moved closer to her, stepping into her space and forcing her back against the wall. Placing my hands near her head, I caged her in with my height and body. “I think buns are hot, and the idea of you hiding your body under some school marm dress excites me more than it should, but I’m going to save that for a later discussion. Unless something has radically changed in the past five years, the idea of you being dry and barren is insane.”

  Shifting my weight to my left leg, I moved my right leg between her thighs. I trailed my nose along her cheek to where her jaw met her ear. The warm air from my exhale caressed her skin, making her tremble and clench her thighs around my leg.

  “See? I’ve barely touched you and you’re already responding.” I ducked my head to her eye level. Her lashes fluttered when my hand stroked down her neck to the sweeping curve of her shoulder. “Remember when we had Indian food at my house? And I sucked the turmeric stain on your finger?”

  Her chin scarcely moved with acknowledgment.

  I leaned in closer to her ear, letting my voice vibrate against her skin. “I haven’t been that hard in years. Fully clothed, your hair in a bun, you did that to me. So never, ever think I don’t desire you. Ever.”

  Intending to step away, I removed my hands from the wall.

  I didn’t get very far.

  She tangled her hands in my hair and pulled my face down to hers. Sweeping her tongue into my mouth, taking control of the kiss from the beginning, she let me know the affect my words had on her.

  I’d flipped a switch.

  No more slow.

  No more talk of being friends.

  The time for waiting, of being patient, was behind us.

  I kissed her back, stroking my tongue against hers. My own hands moved to her neck and cheek, angling her head to give me more access to her warm, wet mouth.

  Every thrust of our tongues, press of our lips, and touch felt familiar yet new. A strange sense of déjà vu prickled my spine as our kiss intensified. Her hips rolled against mine. I kept my leg pressed between her thighs, letting her use my body for her own pleasure.

  We were doing the vertical version of our slow, torturous make out session at my house. I knew I couldn’t handle another night of unfulfilled desire, ending with me taking things into my own hands . . . or hand to be more accurate.

  “Can we take this inside? Before I fuck you against this wall and your neighbors get a show through their peepholes?”

  Her hand reached inside her bag for her keys while she continued kissing me. After a minute of her fumbling, she gave up with a frustrated sigh and shoved me away with her hand to my chest. “I can’t find my keys.”

  “Are you sure you had them when you left?”

  “You distracted me with the Godzilla costume and mysterious plans. Shit.” She dumped the contents of her bag on the floor.

  My mother taught me a woman’s purse was sacred and I should never go rifling through one without permission. After I spotted two tampons and something that might have been a lipstick, or a vibrator, I averted my eyes from the floor. Why would she carry around a vibrator?

  With a resigned sigh, she stuffed each item back inside her bag. How everything fit in there was a secret only explained by watching Mary Poppins. “I’m locked out of my condo.”

  Exhaling in frustration, I leaned against the wall. “Doesn’t your doorman have a set of keys?”

  She grinned up at me. I couldn’t help but notice she knelt at eye level with my fly.

  Her smile faltered. “You should wait here.”

  “Why?”

  She gestured at my fly. “I don’t want you to get any of my neighbors too excited should we run into them in the elevator.”

  “Good idea.” I tried to subtly shift my erection to make it more discreet.

  Her eyes widened and her tongue peeked out from between her parted lips.

  “You really shouldn’t do that in your current position.” I reached out a hand to help her up.

  “Why—Oh.” She cast another glance at my fly before meeting my eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

  She left her bag on the floor next to the door while she went downstairs for the extra key. The slim gold capsule poked out of the top of the bag. Giving into my curiosity, I pulled it out. When I saw the USB port, I swallowed my disappointment. A portable charger made more sense than a tiny vibrator.

  As I waited for her to return, I wondered if she had any toys.

  I didn’t remember her having any before.

  If she did have toys, would she show me?

  The sound of the elevator opening broke me from my fantasy.

  Holding up and jingling her keys, she approached the door. “Sorry about that. You survived?”

  “I thought about baseball the entire time.”

  Once again she focused on my jeans.

  “Really? You must really enjoy baseball. Is it the uniforms?”

  I was still hard.

  “Take it as a good sign.” I took her keys and opened the door. “Shall we?”

  Inside we made it to the living room before I kissed her again. I attempted to guide us to her couch, but she had other ideas.

  “Come with me,” she murmured, taking my hand and leading me
down the hall.

  Our feet tangled with each step and we bumped into a wall as we continued kissing. Sure I could’ve opened my eyes to avoid obstacles. Or stopped kissing her. Neither option appealed to me.

  At the threshold of her bedroom, I paused. “Are you sure?”

  She answered by fisting the material of my T-shirt and pulling me into the room.

  STEPPING AWAY, SHE turned on a small lamp next to her bed. I barely noticed the furnishings of the room and could only say it was as elegant as the rest of the apartment. Done in soft whites and grays, a large upholstered headboard framed a bed layered with pillows, a fluffy down comforter, and more pillows. The whole set up made me think of The Princess and the Pea. Or a marshmallow. I felt like a big, hairy man, unsure if I should rumple the perfectly made bed, so I stood there staring.

  “What’s wrong?” She brushed my arm to get my attention.

  I rubbed the hairs on my chin. “I know what the bull felt like in the china shop.”

  “What? Why?”

  I swept my arm toward the thousand pillows and all white linens then pointed to myself in my jeans, plaid shirt, and the boots I was positive had mud, sand, grass, or some other form of nature on them.

  “I’m missing something.” She stood on tiptoes to kiss me.

  I gave her a quick peck on the lips. “I’m overwhelmed by feminine perfection.”

  She stared at me, then flicked her gaze to the bed. “Too many pillows? I have a home decor problem. I keep buying pillows. I guess the answer to the question of can you have too many pillows is yes.”

  She swept a half-dozen pillows of varying sizes and shapes off the bed, leaving a handful remaining. “Better?”

  Distracted, I nodded. “At least you don’t have a cat painting above your bed. Or a wall mural of yourself as a unicorn.”

  The sound that came out of her mouth wasn’t a girlish giggle or a soft laugh. She full out cackled, ending with a snort that could only be called inelegant.

  “Please tell me you’ve never encountered either of those things,” she wheezed through her laughter.

  “I haven’t, but I can tell you, I’d run if I did.”

  “I think any man or woman would.”

  “At least you don’t have a life size mural of naked asses in here, too.” I kissed her smiling mouth and pressed her against the side of the bed until she tumbled back onto the comforter. Before I joined her, I removed my boots and socks. For a second or two, I hesitated before reaching for the button on my jeans.

  “I want to do that.” She shifted to sit up, letting her legs hang off the bed on either side of mine. Her nimble fingers flipped open the button and slid down my zipper. Without hesitation, she shoved my jeans down to my thighs, leaving me standing there in my boxers. The cotton of my boxer briefs couldn’t contain my obvious erection.

  When she shoved the waistband lower to grip me, her thumb swept over a small droplet of pre-cum on the tip. Silently, with her eyes on mine, she leaned over and licked my cock, flattening her tongue to drag it over the sensitive head.

  “Fuck.” I exhaled more than spoke the word.

  My hips bucked automatically, seeking some relief from the painful edge of pleasure I’d balanced on since kissing in the hall.

  Her eyes remained on me as she wrapped her lips around my cock. It jerked in happy relief.

  Yes, cocks can feel happiness as well as other emotions. Ask any man.

  I shifted my feet as she slid my boxers toward my jeans. When the fabric reached my calves, I stepped out of my pants while pulling my shirt over my head.

  Naked, I stood before her.

  She grinned, and I returned her happy smile. “Once again, you’re naked and I’m fully clothed.”

  “We need to stop meeting like this.” I leaned forward to kiss her. “Your turn.”

  “In a minute. There’s something I’ve been dying to do for ages.” She slid off of the bed to her knees, mirroring the position from outside her door.

  My mouth formed the words “you don’t need to do this” while inside I shouted “oh God, yes please, fuck.”

  With a naughty glint in her eyes, she took more of me in her mouth. I dug my fingernails into my palms to keep myself from exploding. Every sweep of her tongue had me on the edge. Her warm, wet, soft lips embraced my entire length before she slid her mouth back to the tip, almost releasing me entirely, then repeating the torturously slow movement. Over and over, she brought me to the edge.

  At some point I closed my eyes, letting my hands rest on her head, more for my own balance than to take control of her actions. No, I didn’t want to control this moment. I trusted her completely.

  With every suck, lick, and caress, I could feel how she owned her power. This wasn’t about Roslyn on her knees in submission. No, she controlled my pleasure. Knowing she wanted to give me gratification pushed me toward the tipping point. When her hand gently cupped my balls, they tightened and pleasure began pulsing through me.

  “I—” Fuck. I didn’t want to come in her mouth. Not for our first time in years.

  Relentless, she didn’t stop. Instead, increasing her focus, she drew out my orgasm with each calculated movement.

  I was lost in sensation.

  Her warm, wet mouth. The grip of her hand.

  The pleasure straddled pain.

  I opened my eyes to find her watching me.

  My hips reflexively jerked and then stilled as I came.

  I collapsed naked on the bed. A pillow fell on my head.

  Shoving it off of my face, I whispered, “You might be the death of me, Roslyn Porter.”

  “I’ve been thinking about doing that since the photoshoot,” she confessed.

  I opened my left eye to stare at her. “That was months ago.”

  “I’ve been practicing impulse control. You’re my marshmallow.”

  Lifting up on my elbows, I stared at her with both eyes open. “White and squishy?”

  Her eyes trailed down my chest, lower over my abs, and settled somewhere around my waning erection. “No, definitely not squishy. It’s a study done with children. If they resist eating the marshmallow for a set amount of time, they’ll be rewarded with more marshmallows instead of only one.”

  “If this is your way of suggesting something kinky or multiple partners, I’m going to have to respectfully decline. I don’t like sharing, and hell if I’m ever going to want another woman the way I want you.” Closing my eyes again, I rested my head amongst the pillows. “Is there a scientific study that can explain why we’re talking about marshmallows while you’re wearing too many clothes and I’m lying in your bed naked?

  Behind my closed lids, I heard her quiet gasp followed by the soft sounds of clothing hitting the floor.

  “Hey, I wanted to do that,” I mumbled, but didn’t move. “Come here.”

  I reached out to touch cool air, sweeping my arms wide to find her. The bed dipped with new weight before I felt her warmth brush against me. “Mmm, better.”

  She giggled as she curled into my side.

  “Still too far away.” I pulled her over me, positioning her knees on either side of my thighs. No, I still hadn’t opened my eyes. I was savoring the moment, enjoying the feel of her skin against mine. A firm believer in exploring life with all five senses, right now I ranked touch as my favorite.

  My hands squeezed the soft, supple curves where her hips became thigh before sliding my palms down to the hollow behind her knees and back along the outside of her leg. I surveyed the landscape of her body with my fingers gliding over smooth skin. From her hips I traveled north over the dip of her waist. Denying myself the pleasure of her breasts, I skipped to her shoulders, down her arms, around her waist, and up her spine. Gently encouraging her to lean forward with my hands pressed along her shoulder blade, I brought her mouth to mine. My tongue sought hers as it slid into her mouth.

  Her body was simultaneously familiar and unknown. Her breasts were fuller, the muscles in her back stronger,
and her hips rounder. There were a thousand tiny differences between this Roslyn and the one I’d fallen in love with. This was our last first time together. If we didn’t work this time, I’d have to cut the invisible threads that tethered my heart to her.

  She responded to my kiss by pressing her full, impossibly soft breasts against my chest.

  “Your chest hair tickles.” She squirmed, her thighs squeezing around my hips. Her warm heat settled above my still recovering cock.

  Rather than curse my longer refractory period, I focused on her. Kissing along her jaw to her neck, I slowly made my way down to her chest. I pressed against her upper thigh, right below the curve of her ass, silently suggesting she slide her body forward. It worked beautifully when her hard nipples brushed against my face.

  No, I wasn’t going to motorboat them.

  I lifted my hands to cup each breast, kissing one nipple and then the other. Overwhelmed by the velvety feel of them and her familiar floral scent, I moaned, feeling my cock stir with life.

  “Lift yourself up,” I whispered, finally opening my eyes again to find her staring back at me with heavily-lidded eyes. I pressed my tongue against the inside of my bottom lip before slowly licking the center.

  Understanding lit her eyes, but she didn’t move.

  “Please don’t make me beg. If you’ve thought about my cock since the photo shoot, that’s nothing compared to the fantasies I’ve had for years of tasting you again.”

  Upholstered headboards were a brilliant design. I shifted so my head rested a few inches from the top of the bed, pulling her up and over me until her knees straddled my shoulders.

  “Hold on tight,” I whispered before kissing her inner thigh and inhaling against her skin.

  As my tongue met her center, I said a prayer of thanks for whatever power brought her back to me. She whimpered and rocked above me as I explored her with my tongue. Gently sucking on tender skin and licking with the tip of my tongue, I drew out soft cries of pleasure from her. Familiar, yet all new, her body’s response controlled my actions, giving me direction. When her thighs began to tremble, I slowed my pace, drawing out her pleasure. Again and again, over and over, I drove her to the brink, then pulled back.