Better Love

by Daisy Prescott

  At one point, she wove her fingers into my hair and not so gently pulled on the short strands. Her voice strained through gritted teeth as she whispered above me, “You are a mean man, Ashland.”

  I smiled before nipping the inside of her thigh with my teeth. We both knew the longer I drew this out, the more explosive her orgasm would be.

  I wasn’t a lick and stick kind of man. Never had been. Occasionally I liked a fast, hard fuck, but that wasn’t my preferred style.

  Taking mercy on her, I reached up to roll one nipple between my thumb and index finger while sliding two fingers inside of her.

  “Oh, oh, uh, mmm, yes, yes, don’t stop, please, please don’t, yes, oh there, right—” Her thighs muffled the rest of her words when they clenched around my head as she trembled before exploding, her orgasm powerful and fierce like her.

  I eased her down with soft strokes to the back of her thigh as I slowly withdrew my fingers and kissed right above her hip bone.

  She leaned heavily against the headboard for a few seconds before rolling to my side.

  When I touched her hip, she quivered and opened her eyelids.

  “Holy shit. How could I have forgotten that?” Her eyes looked glassy and bright.

  “What?” I trailed a finger along the slope of her breast. Her body vibrated with an aftershock of pleasure.

  “You must’ve made a deal with the devil to be that skilled at giving women pleasure.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, sweetheart, that was just the first course. We haven’t even begun.”

  Her breathing hitched as I shifted to lie between her legs.

  It was in that moment, as I thought about sliding inside of her, when I realized my critical error.

  I didn’t have condoms with me. I wasn’t a teenage boy or player who carried them in his wallet on the off chance of getting lucky. I hadn’t slept with a woman in a long time. Nor had I wanted to.

  I didn’t want to imagine Roslyn having a supply of condoms at the ready in her nightstand. The idea churned my stomach, but I wasn’t fool enough to pretend she’d been celibate. A woman like Roslyn needed to be worshipped. If not by me, because I’d been a foolish asshole, then I had no right to complain about someone else stepping in. I just didn’t want to know or have any reminders of her life without me.

  However, if I didn’t confess my lack of foresight, we’d be done for the night. Not that I’d complain. I’d cuddle her, happily playing the big spoon to her small one. I buried my face against her chest, softly kissing the spot where her breast met the center of her ribs right above her heart.

  “Dan?” She tapped my shoulder with her finger. “What’s wrong?”

  I sat back on my haunches. “I don’t have condoms. I wouldn’t assume you have them. I’m not judging your prior sex life, or lack of one. Either is okay. Whatever, or whoever, you’ve done has no relation to my feelings or desire for you. I should’ve planned this better. Rookie mistake to focus on the Godzilla costume and not condoms.”

  Her fingertip pressed against my lips stilled my babbling. I didn’t babble. I hardly spoke most days.

  “Thank you,” I whispered before kissing her finger.

  “I have condoms in my bathroom vanity. Before you jump to conclusions, yes, it’s a large box of Magnums. And the reason for that is one of my clients has an endorsement deal. No, it’s not anyone you know. No, I don’t know if the size fits. Yes, the box has been opened. I think that covers all of your concerns.” She kissed me hard, dispelling any reason to dwell on the hows and whys.

  “I’ll be right back.” I bounced off of the bed and did a quick trot to her adjoining bathroom. Without flipping on the light, I opened the door under the sink and spotted a wholesale size box of condoms. Briefly I wondered how many were missing. Did it matter? No. I was the naked man in her bathroom tonight with the taste of her still on my lips and her waiting for my return.

  After pulling out two foil packets, I closed the door on both the cabinet and any jealous thoughts trying to break through my happy bubble.

  Returning to her, I drank in her naked body lying on the bed waiting for me. My eyes traced the skin my mouth and hands had already claimed. Her familiar breasts were larger than I remembered. Her curves more plentiful. Her dark hair lay tangled on the pillows, a glorious mess from my hands. Every inch of her pale skin begged to be marked by my tongue, lips, and hands. Staring at her, I wanted to quote Neruda’s lines about hunger and sunbeams. I craved her, flesh against flesh, wanted to consume her, desiring to meld my body with hers until there was no line marking the end of her and the beginning of me.

  Once upon a time I’d been loved by this woman and arrogantly believed I could walk away and live without her.

  “What a ridiculous fool I’ve been,” I said softly to myself, not for her ears to hear.

  “Are you going to stand there and stare?” She crooked a finger at me.

  “No, I’ve waited too long already,” I whispered. “My body misses my heart.”

  She blinked at me, confusion and then understanding revealed in her eyes. Without acknowledging my confession, she opened her arms to me.

  I sank into her, joining our bodies together. Her warmth enveloped me, softest velvet surrounding me. Unlike earlier, my orgasm didn’t feel like a hard fought battle surrendered. Nothing in this moment was about seeking release, scratching an itch, or relieving pressure. No, this, this was a homecoming. Our bodies spoke in a silent code of touches and reactions that our minds had fought against for years.

  I surrendered to her, waving a white flag emblazoned with the sacred heart.

  She flipped us, once again straddling me, controlling our pace, using me for her pleasure. I wanted nothing more than to be exhausted and boneless from pleasing her.

  Her teeth pressed into her lip and she exhaled in frustration as she sought another climax. Giving her what she needed, I pressed my thumb against her clit.

  As she came, pulsing around me still inside of her, I decided this was my favorite thing in the world. Nothing could ever be more sublime than Roslyn letting go, triumphant in her bliss.

  I changed our positions again, lifting her leg to my shoulder as I went as deep as possible before shuddering with my own climax.

  Breathing hard, sweaty, head spinning, I flopped face first into the pillows. Unable to move, I was certain death would come in the form of slow suffocation by down.

  I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

  THANKFULLY, I DIDN’T die by accidental suffocation from too many pillows.

  Because at some point in the middle of the night, or very early in the morning, Roslyn roused me for round two. Or I should’ve said, her warm mouth on my cock woke me up.

  I swore I was dreaming until a soft drag of her teeth snapped me awake. Blackout curtains blocked the city light, leaving the room in nearly complete darkness except for the soft glow from a docking station’s clock on her nightstand.

  “Succubus,” I said, half-awake and half-hard.

  “Shh,” she’d whispered before making sure I was fully conscious and fully erect. The soft sound of a foil wrapper tearing broke the silence before she slid the condom on me.

  Spooning her from behind, I lifted her leg and wrapped it over my hip before sliding inside of her. This position gave me access to her breasts and clitoris, two of my favorite parts of her body. If I were keeping track or had a list.

  She came quietly, my kiss swallowing her soft cry. My third orgasm of the night followed. I wanted to fall asleep inside of her, never breaking our connection, but the messy business of sex dictated a trip to the bathroom.

  I closed the door behind me before flipping the light switch. The glare blinded me and I squinted in the too bright light. After taking care of the necessities, I opened her medicine cabinet looking for toothpaste and hopeful for locating an unused toothbrush.

  My intent hadn’t been to snoop, but two things caught my eye:

  A familiar disc of birth control pills
and a prescription bottle of anti-anxiety medication.

  Trying to ignore the story behind either, I swished mouthwash, spit, and rinsed. None of my business, I told myself.

  A lot of women took birth control pills to regulate their cycles.

  But why did she need anti-anxiety meds? And how long had she been taking them?

  Most of all, why hadn’t I noticed?

  I closed the cabinet door with a soft click before turning off the light and leaving the bathroom. Back in bed, I pulled her close to kiss her.

  “Oh, minty. Did you use my toothbrush?”

  “No, I found mouthwash.”

  If she tensed at where I found it and what else I might’ve seen, she recovered quickly enough I thought I’d imagined it.

  “Be right back.” She slipped out of bed.

  There was a lot we still didn’t know about each other—new secrets and old scars yet to be revealed.

  When she returned, I didn’t pry or ask questions. Instead, I curled her against me and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Over coffee in bed a few hours of sleep later, I decided we needed to do something fun. Playing off of the silliness of the Godzilla costume, I mentally planned a day of adventure. Part courtship of Roslyn Porter, part reacquainting ourselves, I hoped she’d go along with my idea.

  “I have a proposal for you.” Bad choice of words. She about spit out her coffee. “I mean, a proposition.”

  “What sort of proposition?” She lifted her eyebrow. Hair messy and fresh faced, she looked radiant in the pale morning light pouring in through her large windows.

  “Not a sexual one, at least not right now.” I kissed her pout. “I think you’ll enjoy yourself, even if my idea requires clothes.”

  “I’m intrigued. Tell me over breakfast. I’m starving.” She scrambled out of my arms and detangled herself from the covers. “But first, if we’re leaving the condo, showers are needed. We smell like sex.”

  “Give me a minute and I’ll join you.” While she was in the shower, I texted a few resources and made arrangements for later in the day before joining her. I was all about water conservation.

  After warm, wet, soapy shower sex, I searched her kitchen for something to make for breakfast.

  She had two single serve Greek yogurts in the fridge, turkey bacon in the freezer, and nothing remotely healthy in the cupboards, unless we were going to eat cookies and ramen noodles for breakfast. If she had eggs, I could’ve pulled together a pasta carbonara, but I wasn’t that desperate.

  “I see you judging my food options.” She bumped me with her hip, stepping around me to grab the two yogurts. “Do you want black cherry or honey?”

  “Do you have granola? Fruit?” I frowned at the little cups.

  “Did you see either while you were looking in all of my cabinets?” She peeled the foil off of both containers and stuck a spoon in one. “Here, have the honey.”

  I scowled at the yogurt. “I need more than a cup of sweetened fermented dairy for breakfast.”

  “There might be a couple of Pop Tarts behind the soup.”

  “Why?”

  She swallowed a spoonful of yogurt. “Why are they behind the soup?”

  “Why do you have toaster pastries? At all.” I searched behind the soup. Locating the familiar box from my own childhood, I opened it. “Or better question, why do you have an empty box?”

  “Really? Someone has stolen my Pop Tarts.”

  “A victimless crime.” I tossed the box into the recycling container.

  “Be nice.” She jumped up on the counter and I stepped between her legs. Wearing only my shirt from last night, she looked sexier than ever.

  “I’m always nice.” I stole her spoon and dipped it in the honey on the top of my yogurt, then held it up to her mouth. My pulse quickened as her tongue licked the bottom and her lips wrapped around the bowl of the spoon. “Unlike you, Shirt Thief. You are an evil temptress.”

  “I thought I was a succubus.”

  “Only at night. In the bright light of morning, you’re a temptress. I can’t think clearly when you’re around.” I tasted the honey on her lips. With a groan, I forced myself to the other side of the kitchen and made the sign of the cross with my fingers. “Stay over there.”

  She held her spoon up vertically and licked down the front before sucking the damn thing clean. “It’s just a spoon.”

  I groaned as all my thoughts turned dirty and my blood flowed to my cock.

  “What’s this brilliant plan of yours?” Her innocent tone fooled no one.

  “Huh?” All I could think about was picking her up and taking her back to bed. Sounded brilliant to me.

  “Your plan for the day? Your non-sexual proposition?”

  Right.

  “I decided we need a day of fun. You already told me you’re free today and we have a date scheduled for tonight. So no arguing you have to work. I’m thinking a full-on spree around Seattle. For the next twelve hours, maybe twenty-four if I’m lucky, you’re mine.”

  A full day for now. I’d start small. The rest of our lives would be composed of single days. Today would be the perfect beginning.

  “A fun spree? What brought this on?” She set her yogurt in the sink. Mine remained untouched on the counter.

  “Who doesn’t want to go on a fun spree in their own town? When was the last time you spent a day playing in Seattle? It’s the Emerald City. The paradise at the end of the yellow-brick road. It’s Nirvana and Hendrix’s ‘Angel.’ Plus, we both need to relax more. Let our hair down.” I brushed my hand over my short hair. I needed a hair cut and a beard trim.

  “Relax? Are you calling me uptight?” She playfully narrowed her eyes at me, although I felt like she could see straight inside of me and knew I’d found her medication.

  I had to be honest with her about my discovery last night. I didn’t really care about the birth control pills, but I needed to let her know I’d snooped.

  “I’m not.” I closed the space between us, once again settling my hips between her thighs, which didn’t help my focus. “But you might need to after I confess something to you.”

  “Are you using a diversion technique to break bad news? You aren’t dying, are you?” Her eyes shifted back and forth as she scanned my face.

  “What? No. I’m the picture of health and vitality. And stamina. Three times last night, if I may remind you.”

  “Oh, I remember.” Color pinked her cheeks. “Then what are you confessing?”

  “I inadvertently spied in your medicine cabinet last night while searching for a new toothbrush.”

  “You used my toothbrush, didn’t you?”

  “No, but I did see your jumbo bottle of Xanax.”

  Her laughter bubbled up from her chest. “This is your big confession? I don’t know a single person in the city who doesn’t have a script for Xanax or some other anti-anxiety, mood stabilizer, or sleep aid.”

  I raised my hand. “You know me.”

  “I said in the city.”

  “Ah,” I replied with a nod, “therein lies the source.”

  “Living in the woods and kayaking aren’t the answer for everything.”

  “No, but not being a rat in a maze sure helps.”

  The playful expression left her eyes. I was treading dangerously close to the issue that ended us the first time.

  “I’ll keep my opinions on rats and mazes to myself. Today is only about fun, more fun, and all the fun. Get dressed and we’ll go get breakfast.”

  “But I just ate breakfast,” she declared.

  “No, you had a snack.” I pulled her away from the counter and carried her into the bedroom with her legs wrapped around my hips. Gently tossing her on the bed, I reached for my jeans. Once again I hadn’t really thought through the planning of this sleepover date and would be stuck in the same clothes. For now. We could swing by the men’s department at Nordstrom later. “You’re going to need to give me back my shirt. I don’t think I’d fit in any of yours.”<
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  Staring at me, she slowly unbuttoned my shirt and let it pool on the ground. “Want to work up an appetite?”

  I pounced, pushing us both on the bed where we landed with a soft thump in the mountain of down and pillows.

  A FEW MINUTES, a short kissing session on her bed, and more layers of clothes later, we stood in her foyer preparing to leave.

  “This is crazy. It’s freezing outside,” she said. “I checked the weather on my phone and it’s in the fifties, which really means the forties with windchill and dew points. Maybe we should stay inside.”

  “I’ll admit the timing of this adventure should’ve been thought out and planned for better weather, but we live in Seattle. If the sun shines, we need to get ourselves outside.”

  “Can’t we do this next summer? Sit in the sun on the water someplace having patio cocktails?” She got a dreamy look in her eyes only someone from the Pacific Northwest could get when talking about sunshine and patios. She grew up east of Seattle. If anyone should know the importance of seizing the sun, it was her.

  “No, we can’t. It goes against generations of parents instructing their children to go play in the nice weather. Additionally, it’s important to cross these off our list before the end of the year.” I thought up and added the last part on the spot.

  “Why?” She zipped up her coat and picked up a knit hat with a pom-pom on top.

  I doubted she’d need the hat. Or the expedition rated down-filled parka, but she could leave them in the car. I grabbed my own army-style jacket and the shirt I’d recovered from her. I probably had a beanie in the car if I needed it.

  “Fresh start, new beginnings, clean slate . . . insert your favorite cliché about a new year here.” I outlined a square between us.

  “It’s only early November. We have six weeks.”

  “Next week is the middle of the month. We might not see sun again until March. Or it could rain every single day. At least it’s not raining today. Please trust me on this. It’ll be fun. Promise.”

  “Here we come, fun!” She faked her enthusiasm, but I didn’t care.

  “Watch out, Seattle.” I kissed her soft mouth, the taste of honey still lingering on her lips.