Temptation

by Hawkins, JD

  “We’re getting there…” I answer, raking my fingers in her hair.

  She nuzzles my hand, kissing my palm before moving her lips over to my cock—another kiss just as tender, though it magnifies into a deep thud of pleasure somewhere inside of me.

  With a deep groan I look down again and see her sultry eyes still on me as she kisses my cock again, those supple, wet lips sucking softly at the end—enough to make a lesser man finish right there, and even I need to grunt away the jolt it sends ripping through me.

  “That’s it, baby,” I growl at the ceiling, my hand guiding her head.

  She puts her mouth back on me, but this time she doesn’t pull away to leave that almost painful absence in her wake; this time the kiss stays, deepens, turns into a long, hard suck as she draws the end of my cock deep into her mouth.

  I grit my teeth, clenching her hair in my fist and trying to hold myself back. All of my willpower in full force so I can enjoy the way she rolls her tongue around me, my whole body focused on the sensation, sensitive to every flick and movement of her lips and tongue.

  When she takes the shaft to the back of her throat, letting it fill her until she gags, it’s like she’s putting me in a trance, inducing me into a bliss that makes me pant through gritted teeth. I let her guide me with her mouth into this blood-rushing thrill, and when I look down to see those big, expressive eyes still watching me, still smiling at me, I have to have her, I have to hear those moans and feel myself even more deeply inside of her.

  I pull her away from my cock, and it’s almost agonizing, then turn her around and tug her back down onto me. One hand around her throat, her head leaned back on my shoulder, I bite at her neck while my other hand undoes the fly of her jeans. Fingers sliding under her panties to curl around her hot, swollen clit while I kiss the sensitive skin of her neck.

  She wiggles and squirms, going soft and slick under my touch, her jeans sliding down to reveal her thighs. As she wriggles out of her clothes, she turns her head back over her shoulder so we can clasp mouths, suck tongues, bite lips.

  I lean back on the couch and she sits those ass cheeks over my cock, winding and stroking it between them, to the rhythm of my fingers on her clit, pressing, squeezing, coaxing wetness from inside her, my middle finger searching out her pussy and making her moan into my mouth.

  I pull my lips away, leaving her open-mouthed and desperate for my return.

  “Almost,” I say, leaning over to fish my wallet from my pants around my ankles, the condom from the wallet. Cock so hard I barely feel it as it goes on. Then I pull her back down onto me, my fingers searching out the sweet spot of her pussy, my hand up her shirt, touching, pinching, pressing swollen nipples.

  “Oh god,” she moans, her pussy ripe for me now, squirming to find my cock, to guide it inside from the back.

  “That’s it,” I whisper in her ear as she pulls off her shirt and sits over me, stuttering gasps as she lets me inside. My teeth on the back of her neck. I reach around to squeeze her breasts, urge her further onto me. “Fuck…that’s it.”

  Her body shakes and trembles all the way, alternating between the soft dissolve of pleasure and the tender giddiness in between. I take her waist and guide her body over my cock, slamming up into her as I make her bounce on it, making her grind and twist until I find all the spots that make her moans get louder.

  I push myself up from the couch and we stagger down onto the rug, her on all fours, me behind her, my hands on her waist, smacking her ass, reaching up her sides to pinch and pull at her breasts, to her hair so I can tug her head back, open-mouthed, and let her breathless gasps come easy.

  And as that beautiful ass bounces against me, as I take those perfect breasts in my hands, and hear the moans that come from her like a music that touches my soul, I know I’ll never want another woman as much as I want her right now. A thought as deep as a feeling.

  I pull out and ease her down onto her back so I can look at her, tell her so with my eyes.

  I hold myself up over her, arms on either side of her head, and kiss her softly as I enter her squirming body again, grinding deeper as her ankles link themselves behind my back. I let myself get lost in her, in the smell of her, the sound of her, the feel of her around my cock. Harder, faster, until we’re both full of a harmonic joy that’s bigger than our bodies can handle, until it’s too much to contain.

  “Wyatt,” she pants. “I’m close.”

  I hold back, pumping in a slow rhythm until her moans turn desperate, until I feel her body tense at every push, tightened like a bow string.

  “You’re mine,” I growl as I hit that spot again, deep inside of her, thrusting faster even as I feel her letting go.

  She gushes over me with a deep moan, body writhing beneath me as she comes in waves of euphoria, until the sight of her getting off is so hot I can’t hold back anymore myself, and come in streaks of pent-up desire, meeting her in the loosened afterglow of ecstasy.

  I roll over onto my back and pull her on top of me, her head on my chest, sweaty skin on sweaty skin. Coming to, as if from a hangover, catching our breath and basking in the warmth of bodies satisfied.

  I stroke her hair back and she purrs happily.

  “That felt like the first time…” she murmurs.

  “It was the first time…in a way,” I say.

  “Is it official now?” she asks.

  “Very official.”

  She lifts her head slightly to smile up at me, amused. I plant a kiss on her nose and she lets her head drop back to my chest.

  Then, in that perfect moment, I feel a dark swirl at the back of my thoughts.

  As perfect as this is, as impossibly unbreakable as our relationship has to be, there’s still the fact that I’ve got to fire her from her job. And soon, before Jim finds out I haven’t.

  Melina looks up again, but she’s not smiling this time.

  “Something wrong? You got all tense.”

  “Huh? No… No.”

  Now she smiles.

  “You’re nervous about telling our families, right?”

  I let out a little laugh.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, I am too,” she says. “But Winnie will probably be cool with it and then everyone else will follow. At least, I think that’s how it’ll go… But whatever happens, I know we’ll be okay. You know?”

  She lets her head drop to my chest again and I stare up at the ceiling with a sense of dread.

  I hope she’s right.

  17

  Melina

  “What’s so funny?” Wyatt asks, glancing over at me from the driver’s seat as we make our way to the Buchanans’ Labor Day cookout.

  “Huh?” I say. “Oh, nothing… Just thinking about something Aiden said.”

  “He said something funny for once?”

  I laugh gently and look back at the road.

  “He suggested you and I tell everyone we’re together—as a prank. I’m kinda wondering if they’ll even believe us.”

  Wyatt reaches out to put his palm on my cheek, fingers in my hair, thumb tenderly stroking my temple.

  “I’m sure we’ll find a way to convince them. We can stand on the picnic table and kiss in front of everybody if that’s what it takes.”

  I smile and plant a kiss on his palm and he pulls it away to change gears.

  “Seriously though,” I say, the trepidation in my stomach not letting me leave it alone. “How are we going to handle this? Should we just go in and announce it right away? Should we hold hands and let them figure it out? Should we wait until everyone’s together?”

  “Relax,” Wyatt says. “Don’t overthink it. Let’s just play it cool when we get there. We’ll settle in, get a read on things, and then pick the right moment.”

  I settle back in my seat and breathe deeply, still anxious. After a few minutes of driving Wyatt turns to me and frowns, then looks in the back seat.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Where’s your camera? Did yo
u forget to bring it? I can turn around.”

  “Oh…actually, I decided not to bring it with me.”

  Wyatt glances over to flash me an expression of utter surprise.

  “You decided not to bring your camera?”

  I shrug nonchalantly.

  “I just wanted to be a bit more…‘present,’ you know? Today is important. And I think…sometimes I use the camera as a bit of a shield. Something to hide behind.”

  Wyatt grins broadly.

  “You don’t say…”

  The sarcasm is heavy, so I jab him playfully in the shoulder and he laughs.

  “I guess we’re both learning as much about ourselves as we are about each other.”

  “Oh yeah?” I say. “What have you learned about yourself?”

  Wyatt narrows his eyes at the road, his angular face going a little harder as he thinks for a moment. I wait patiently, starting to smile as the anticipation builds up.

  “That I’m a sucker for a girl who looks as good in my shirts as you do.”

  I groan and laugh and look back at the road.

  Eventually we reach the house, Wyatt steering the car slowly up the driveway, and I start to breathe a little quicker with each yard we get closer to the house.

  “Yo, Lionel,” Wyatt shouts out of the window.

  “Master Wyatt!” the old gardener calls back, ambling toward the car with shears in his hand. His brow furrows when he notices me in the passenger seat. “Miss Melina?”

  “Hey, Lionel. You’re looking good. Didn’t get the day off?”

  “Goodness, no.” He grins at me, adjusting the brim of his hat. “Not that I mind. Working outdoors is like taking a vacation every day.”

  “Don’t work too hard,” Wyatt says. “We’ll catch you later.”

  Lionel waves and Wyatt urges the car on down the drive.

  There are already other cars parked outside the house, and the loud rev of Cody’s bike fills the air for a moment before dying. Wyatt looks for his brother—he’s parking the motorcycle off to the side where there’s some shade—and rolls the car beside him.

  “Hey bro,” Wyatt says, getting out of the car and pulling him in for a hug.

  “Hey,” Cody says.

  Wyatt walks over to open the passenger side door, taking my hand as I step out. I notice how Cody watches us with curiosity. “You guys came together?” He grins slyly.

  “Uh-huh,” Wyatt says.

  “Hey Cody,” I say, hugging him, that mildly-amused curiosity still on his delicate face.

  “Like…together-together?” he says, looking from me to Wyatt and back to me again as if double-checking something.

  Wyatt looks at me, and immediately notices that I’m freezing up—is now the right time? Should we tell Cody? We’ve only just arrived and I’m already panicking about this announcement.

  “We were just…working on something for our boss this morning,” Wyatt says, nonchalantly shrugging, as cool as anything.

  “Sure.” Cody nods and smiles, looking only half-convinced, and I figure Wyatt’s brother might be one of the few people who doesn’t get dazzled by Wyatt’s smoothness.

  The three of us make our way inside—but despite my held breath, the house is empty, and it’s only when we come out into the vast back yard that we see everyone.

  Joe, my dad, and Aiden are standing around the barbecue, Bob and my mom are doing something out by the storage shed—probably sorting through the box of lawn games they keep inside there—and Marsha is sitting on a lounger talking to Wyatt’s mom Elise, who is once again dressed to the nines, wearing a tight cocktail dress that makes her look like a teenage boy’s cougar fantasy come to life.

  I lean over to Wyatt, about to quietly ask him what’s been going on with his mom lately, but before I can say anything I feel a hand grab my elbow.

  “Meli!” Winnie calls eagerly. Before we even hug each other in greeting, she’s pulling me away from Wyatt and off to the side with Becca. “You’ve got to see this.”

  “Yo Wyatt!” Bob calls from the lawn. “Get over here, would you? We could use a hand with the badminton net!”

  I look back at Wyatt as we’re pulled in opposing directions, and he offers a subtle shrug as we’re separated.

  “Look,” Winnie says, holding her phone up for me to see.

  I let my eyes focus on the image of a handsome, Mediterranean-looking guy wearing thick-rimmed glasses that seem like they came straight from the pages of GQ magazine.

  “Cute,” I say.

  “Right?” Winnie nods.

  “Who is he?” I ask.

  “Winnie’s flavor of the month,” Becca says drolly, before sipping her gin and tonic.

  Winnie rolls her eyes and turns to me to offer an explanation.

  “He’s not a ‘flavor of the month.’ His name’s Paolo and we met a couple of days ago. It was just meant to be a quick coffee date, you know? Size each other up a little and see if we wanted to hook up, right? But from the second we sat down, we just clicked. We ended up spending the whole day together, at the Farmers Market and then bar-hopping and just going for a walk and talking. And then he made me dinner and then…I went home afterward.”

  “Wait. Home? You mean you didn’t hook up?” I ask.

  “No! That’s the most amazing thing about it! I think this might be something special, you know? We didn’t want to jump into anything too fast.”

  Becca says, “Except now she’s trying to invite him here.”

  “I didn’t say I would…I was just thinking about it. What do you think, Meli?”

  I glance over at Wyatt, who’s getting his suit pants dirty on the lawn hammering some metal posts into the soil.

  “Um…I don’t know. It’s a bit much, isn’t it? For him, I mean. Inviting him to meet all of us so soon. He’ll get eaten alive. You sure you want to expose him to all of that?”

  “Thank you,” Becca says, looking at Winnie as if I’ve just provided testimony for her case.

  I put a hand on Winnie’s shoulder.

  “If it’s special,” I say, “then keep it that way as long as you can, I say. Not like we don’t get together like this often. You’ll have plenty of chances to show him off.”

  Winnie’s shoulders drop in an admission of defeat, and then she glances down at her phone and shows his picture to me again with puppy-dog eyes.

  “But he’s so cute—and he’s got this really dry sense of humor I know you’d love.”

  “Oh, well if his humor’s dry…” Becca says sarcastically.

  I glance over at the lawn again and see the badminton net set up, but now Wyatt is gone. For some reason a shot of panic runs through me. I scan the entire yard for him, but he’s not there. I only see Aiden and Greg at the grill, and Sabine and Marsha at the tables.

  “I mean, so what if I invite him?” Winnie goes on. “It wouldn’t be the first time somebody sprung a plus-one on us. Remember when Aiden brought that redhead to Cody’s birthday party?”

  “That’s hardly a great example,” Becca scoffs. “Remember how it turned out? Aiden had told her he was a big-shot producer at Warner Bros.—and she found out he worked security in a museum just as we were sitting down to eat. That was a pretty awkward meal.”

  I continue looking around the yard, as if I might have missed him somewhere. Suddenly I’m wondering if he’s taken his parents aside to tell them about us. What if Wyatt decides to tell people individually? Is that what he meant by picking a moment?

  “Ok…but then what about when Joe brought his new girlfriend along to that Halloween party? The younger one. She seemed nice. We had a good time.”

  Becca scrunches up her face.

  “She was nice, but it still didn’t make it any less weird. I still don’t know what he was doing bringing his girlfriend to a party he knew his ex-wife would be at.”

  Maybe I should tell them now, while it’s just the three of us. It would be a hell of a lot easier than telling the entire group, a hell of a lot less in
timidating than some ‘grand announcement’ at the dinner table.

  “I was kind of wondering if Wyatt would bring his new date,” Winnie says, “seeing as how Elise already vetted her anyway.”

  “That happened already?” Becca says. “That psychologist or whatever?”

  “Wait,” I say, Wyatt’s name suddenly wrenching me from my thoughts into the present, “what did you just say?”

  Winnie turns to me blankly.

  “Wyatt’s date? Yeah. His mom finally set him up on a blind date. Apparently she was some super-hot doctor violinist genius.”

  “I’m sure Wyatt was only interested in the first part,” Becca says, taking another delicate sip.

  “Hold on,” I say, the shock of hearing this making me forget about sounding uninterested for a moment, “his mom sent him up on a blind date—and he went.”

  Winnie nods, an amused smile playing across her face.

  “Crazy, right? She told me they had coffee a few days ago.” My sister laughs and leans in to me. “The woman was supposed to text Wyatt’s mom the next day and tell her how it went—but she didn’t. I think we all know what that means!”

  A couple of days ago… The words echo in my mind. It feels like a lifetime ago, and as I parse out the events of the past few days—our talk, the meal, the texts leading up to it, the awkward moment in his office before that—I realize it could only have happened the day that I was mad at him.

  Did he really just shoot off on a date the second I acted like I wasn’t going to put out? Is that all it took for him to seek out another option? I mean sure, it’s possible he never thought that what we had was serious enough to be exclusive—not until the ‘talk’ anyway—but if that’s the case, how many other women had he potentially been seeing on the side while I thought we were making something together?

  And then to not tell me, as if it’s the kind of thing that isn’t important, as if it wasn’t the exact thing I was worried about. Suddenly something else hits me—what if he’s still seeing other people? What if this ‘official’ relationship we’re in is actually an ‘open’ one? We never explicitly agreed to be exclusive. Fuck. I knew it was all too good to be true.