Once: A Collection of Sinfully Sexy and Twisted Tales

by Anthology

  “I don’t need you, Gabe. I need you where you are...just, fuck, man...just go for it! I need to be your big brother for once. There’s no time left!”

  He hangs up the phone. I call him back but he doesn’t answer. I send a text to one of Gage’s friend to make sure there’s a designated driver, and feel a little better that someone will watch out for Gage.

  Just go for it. All this time, I’ve wanted Lori. Just go for it. Did he just give me permission? She doesn’t know that she should be my wife, Mrs. Gabriel McIntyre. His words confuse me, but he said, ‘go for it.’

  Gage is right about one thing; there is no time left. She has to leave in a few minutes. He demanded that I go for it. I have to say the things I should have said when I saw her in our leadership class. Approaching the last bend before I’ll be in full view of Lori, I purposefully make my footsteps heavier. To give her more time so she can leave. That way I won’t do what I’ve been longing to do. That way I won’t experience her rejection when I tell her how I feel about her. And most especially so I won’t betray my flesh and blood.

  As I round the corner, Lori is standing by the vertical blinds looking through the sliding glass door and when she hears me, she faces me. I can’t help rushing toward her. I catch her as she jumps into my arms, just like I’ve dreamed of doing. Her legs lock around my waist, and I heft her up by grasping her butt and keep her in place never losing contact with her sweet lips. I spin her around, dropping us both down on the closest thing, the couch, where this night began.

  Kneeling between her bended legs, I tell her, “Lori, this...” My chest expands with all the things I want to say, and now have the chance to tell her. “I shouldn’t...” My words are as confusing as ever, all jumbled when her hands cradle my face.

  Tears glisten her eyes and I drop my head in the crook of her neck, simply breathing in her scent. I trail kisses up the column of her neck, taking her earlobe in my lips…sucking, pulling, tugging, and then nibbling.

  She pulls away, and I know she doesn’t get it. She can’t understand how her mere existence gives me the courage I need to stand tall and proud. There’s no way she understands how her soft hand on mine makes me come out of my introverted shell.

  “Please?” I breathe out, begging her to say something, anything, even if it’s just to tell me to go to hell or remind me that she belongs to Gage. My hands have a mind of their own as they try to touch every part of her. Her shirt is bunched up and when my fingers skim over her bare skin, I can’t believe that I’m actually touching her semi-naked flesh. After all this time. And, Lori must want my fingers on her because she hasn’t pushed me away.

  “Gabe,” she moans out, the low mewling sounds in the back of her throat urge me on.

  Her skin is like the finest silk. My hands easily glide over the expanse of her stomach and her hips roll into me. And, I’m lost. Her hands pull my head back to her…to her lips and I’m grateful when her legs lock around my hips, now keeping me in place. I’m hypnotized by everything about her even as her hand begins to explore my chest.

  “Gabe—”

  My lips crash into hers, needing to taste her. Needing to breathe her in. Just to savor this moment.

  “I’ve always known. Lori, I’ve known since that damn class...” I trail, chuckling then groaning as I feel her lower half move.

  Her nails scrape down my back, sending tingles along my spine and goose bumps rise up on my forearms.

  “It’s always been you. Never...we...Gage knew I liked...”

  Not wanting to hear his name from her lips ever again, I silence her with a kiss.

  “You don’t get it. Gabe, yes...”

  I suck on her neck, hoping to leave a mark there.

  “Gabe.” She shakes her head, and her rejection washes over me, leaving me dazed. Her fingers grasp the sides of my face. “Wait. Stop.”

  Like a bucket of ice water, her words chill me, and I begin pulling away. I don’t know what I was thinking. My shame at exposing my feelings about her is acute and leaves me uncomfortable.

  “No. No, what are you doing?” She grips my shirt, tugging me back toward her.

  Backing away some more, I try to slink out of her embrace, a groan leaves my lips as I reach for her legs to unwrap from around my lower body.

  Her legs tighten, keeping me in place and now I’m confused because I know she said stop.

  “You’re such an idiot.” Lori exhales, and just the release of her breath in my direction makes me harder and my mouth itches to get back onto hers. “I said stop because well...um, Gage and I, well, we’re not together, together like you think.” Her eyes look shy.

  I rake my hand through my hair, partly in frustration and confusion, and partly to get it out of my face.

  “What are you saying?”

  She laughs, but there’s no joy there only sadness. “For someone so smart, you’re also dumb, Gabe.”

  “And, you’re not making any sense,” I tell her in exasperation.

  Her hand finds my jaw, rubbing it, and then, trailing a finger along my scar. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been waiting all this time for you. Gage and I, well, we’ve been trying to get you…get you,” She pauses. “To admit your feelings for me.”

  Wait? What?

  Lori’s caress pulls me closer to her. “Gage has been trying to get us together since we met in class. Since his ‘cheating’…” She air quotes. “Didn’t move you, we thought an ‘engagement’ would push you, but you haven’t said anything.”

  Her confession is messing me up. I can’t imagine, never did I think—

  Tears stream down her cheeks, and I can tell they’re not the happy kind I overhear women talk about sometimes. “What is wrong with me? Don’t you like me?”

  And, for the first time, since she’s uttered that question so many months ago, I truly understand what she’s asking. What’s wrong with her?

  And, like the other times when she’s asked that question, I tell her, kissing the corners of her lip, “Nothing. I’m an asshole. I’m sorry I was an idiot. I just never thought someone like you…”

  “I told you, any woman would be lucky to call you hers, Gabe, and I mean it.” Lori takes the time to kiss the scar as she did a while back.

  With her hands around my neck, pulling me close to her upper body, I’m so relieved what I feel isn’t one-sided. All of it was in my own head, and I could have put myself out of my misery had I just opened my mouth. My cell phone vibrates and I already know who it is. Not letting my girl go, I take the phone from my back pocket.

  “Yeah?”

  “So we’re good?” Gage asks, not a trace of slur in his words.

  “Yeah.”

  An emotion wells in my chest, choking me for a release. “Thanks, bro.” My free hand roams up Lori’s spine toward her hair.

  “You had my back in high school, and now it was my turn. I love you, man. I’m just glad you came to your senses.” He laughs. “Thought I’d have to marry Lori to get you to wake up. Now get your ass down here so you can meet my real girlfriend, Kellie.” Gage hangs up in my ear.

  “I love you,” Lori and I whisper out at the same time.

  ABOUT allyn lesley

  allyn lesley writes real stories about real people.

  As a teen, allyn lost herself in the pages of some of Romance’s heavyweights, trusting that a happy ever after was just around the corner. In allyn’s own writing journey, as in life, she’s learned that people don’t always experience recovery and restoration after a fall. Her stories speak to the gritty side of life where the right choice isn't always easily identified and happiness not quickly gained.

  Pie for Breakfast

  By Terri George

  Prologue

  He runs his finger down the side of my face. There’s tenderness in his gaze that I wasn’t expecting. “Whatever he did, he was an ass.”

  I stare at him, nonplussed. Is it so obvious?

  “I can see it in your eyes.” Cupping my chin he dr
ags his thumb across my bottom lip, achingly slowly. “That’s why you came here. To feel what he stopped making you feel... Desired.”

  I’m thrown and stall for time, downing half my champagne in one gulp. Such insight and he can only be, what, late twenties?

  Certainly no more than five years older than Zachary and he’s never shown such intuitiveness. No, that apple didn’t fall far, real chip off his father’s block. Our son blames me. As if it’s my fault he now comes from a broken home. As if I wanted that.

  Looking back I realise the evidence was there. I’d just been too blind to see it; too sure of my husband’s love. But hadn’t he promised me an eternity together when he handed me his heart all those years ago? But that was then and right around now he’s promising himself to another.

  I swipe the thought from my mind. Evan’s betrayal is what brought me here; that and my need to feel a man’s hands on my body again, his weight on top of me, his hardness inside me. To feel wanted again and yes... desired. So what if I have to pay for it?

  The touch of the boy’s hand on my leg just above the knee brings me back to the here and now; my pulse quickening as his presses his fingers into my flesh.

  “What’s your name?”

  The glass chinks; my hand shaking a little as I replace it on the bar. Should I tell him my real name?

  The boy seems to sense my uncertainty and smiles. It’s warm and reassuring, but the look in his eyes is anything but. It’s sexy... dirty... and so full of promise.

  Desire stirs between my thighs as he moves his palm higher up my leg.

  He leans in; his breath hot in my ear as he traces the edge with his tongue. “You can make one up. Tonight you can be whoever you want.”

  “Ella.” Evan’s nickname for me from college rolls off my tongue without conscious thought. How long has it been since I sang for him? Long before he broke his vows; that’s for sure.

  I always used to sing: quietly to myself around the house while doing my chores; along with the radio in the car. Now I can’t even remember the last time I sang in the shower.

  “Beautiful,” the boy breathes. He bites my lobe, dragging it between his teeth. “Now I know what to whisper in your ear when I make you come.”

  Chapter 1

  Force of habit sees me roused before the sun is fully up; my internal body clock still not re-tuned.

  My leg strays over to Evan’s side of the mattress as I stretch. Oh I tried sleeping in the middle of the bed, but it didn’t feel right; too much space and I’d always roll over during the night and wake up on my side.

  Turning my head on the pillow I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s not yet six, but I know sleep is lost to me now and throw back the covers.

  Pushing my feet into my slippers, I head into the en-suite to pee and brush my teeth. Then, shrugging on my robe, I make my way downstairs to begin another day.

  I take a mug from the kitchen cupboard and perform my morning ritual, spooning in coffee and sugar, filling the kettle and setting it to boil. Crossing to the picture window, I gaze out at the rear yard.

  It must have been windy during the night; a fresh scattering of leaves layer the lawn. That used to be Evan’s job; that and mowing. He took such pride in the lawns when we first moved here; wanted them to be the best in the neighbourhood. Then as the years rolled by he got too busy; the working week seeping into Saturdays and sleep to be caught up on, on Sundays. But now Evan cares even less about the grass than he does me.

  There’s no point calling the gardener for such a simple task. I mentally add raking the lawn to my list of chores for the day. It’s a short list. Not nearly enough to fill the empty hours that stretch ahead.

  The kettle clicks off and I pour the boiling water into the mug and stir, rinsing the spoon under the faucet and setting it on the drainer.

  Echoes of mornings past flit across my memory as I lean against the work counter sipping my coffee.

  Cradling Paige in my arms, breathing in her warm baby smell as Zachary sits at the kitchen table, his little feet beating out a steady rhythm against the chair leg as he shovels in Froot Loops.

  Yelling up the stairs to the kids to get their butts out of bed if they’re to have any hope of catching the bus and save me the trouble of throwing on sweats and driving them to high school. The usual scramble of homework gathered up from the dining room table, lunch boxes shoved into bags. Hastily swallowed juice before the front door slams behind them without so much as a ‘bye mom’.

  Evan’s French toast and freshly ground coffee poured into his World’s Best Dad mug the kids gave him one Father’s day when they were small. His emphatic goodbye kisses at the front door; his tongue stroking mine as he grabbed my ass, pulling my body hard against his. That over the years dwindled to instant coffee in a travel mug and a reminder to pick up his suit from the dry cleaners.

  The sound of a car horn and a shouted expletive jerks me back to the here and now. The car horn was probably Janice’s husband off to work; the rudeness must be Todd. Whizzing down the center of the road on his bicycle with no thought to traffic, he throws the papers with a practiced aim. That boy has to be destined to play in the majors; he’s got one hell of a pitching arm.

  At least he has a work ethic, which is more than Zachary did at his age. Although that’s changed since he discovered his talent for making money on the markets. Such avarice in one so young. His father couldn’t be more proud. I put down my coffee, stifling a yawn as I shuffle to the front door.

  Retrieving the local newspaper from the path, I look up at the sound of old Mrs McClaskie across the way calling in her cat from a night on the tiles.

  A blur of ginger fluff races across her front lawn and up the steps to where she stands on her porch. Lillian coos something as the cat winds a figure of eight around her legs; its pendulous belly bulging with fecundity. I’ve been offered first dibs.

  Stooping to pick up her paper, Lillian scoops up the cat with her other hand. Straightening up, she spies me watching and smiles, waving the paper in greeting.

  I smile and wave back.

  Watching Lillian head indoors I have the horrible feeling I’m looking at my future.

  No. No way. I am not getting a cat. Not now, or anytime soon.

  Back in the kitchen I make some toast and zap my cooled coffee in the microwave. Slathering the toast with butter and dark cherry jelly I settle at the table to read the paper.

  Not a whole lot happens in our small suburban town, which is good in one way. The rarity of a truly shocking front page headline is comforting. But the mundanity of the burbs saw both my children scurrying to far off colleges.

  I turn to the Society page. The main story is the country club’s annual fund-raiser at the weekend. This is the first time Evan and I haven’t attended in fifteen years.

  I take a bite of my toast as my gaze sweeps over the photos of my friends and neighbours smiling to camera; the men in Tuxedos, the women in elegant evening gowns. The combined worth of their jewels could probably settle the debt of a third world country.

  The toast sticks in my throat, causing me to cough as I swallow.

  And there he is. Evan... With Kelsey.

  As I look at the photo of them, Kelsey smiling adoringly at my ex-husband, I can’t help but wonder what she sees in him. Sure he’s wearing incredibly well, still as good-looking as the day I met him and−. I look closer at the photo, at the expanse of white shirt covering his torso. Has he been working out? But there’s the age difference.

  No prizes for guessing what he sees in her. She’s young, pretty, her breasts and ass still pert. And did I mention she’s young? As in two years younger than Zachary young.

  Ferring Inc CEO, Evan Jefferson with his fiancé, Interior Designer, Kelsey Graham, the caption beneath their photo reads.

  Interior Designer? Since when?

  Oh that’s right, she chose that painting for his office when he refurbished. Some abstract thing. So not him. She’d blushed, rather e
ndearingly I thought, as he showed it off to me. Why was I there..? Oh yes, we were going to the lake house for the weekend. I didn’t know it then of course, but it was to be the last weekend we’d spend there. Did he plan it as some sort of last hurrah?

  Straight out of college, filling in for his regular secretary who was on maternity leave, Kelsey had seemed sweet. I’d thought no more about her than her skirt was unsuitably short for such a prestigious position. She’d shown no signs of being a husband-stealing bitch.

  Fool me once.

  So I guess she’s not his secretary anymore. What’s he done, set her up in business? Well she’s got the penthouse apartment in town and she’s got him. Why wouldn’t she go for his money and contacts?

  Wait, what?

  I re-read the caption under their photo. Ferring Inc CEO, Evan Jefferson with his fiancé... Looking again at the photo I stare at her hand that’s laid possessively on his waist as she snuggles into his side... her left hand; and the huge rock on her third finger.

  Well that puts the ring Evan bought me when we got engaged straight out of college to shame. He did promise me a ‘proper’ one once he started making real money, but I loved that ring. To me it wasn’t about the size of diamond, it was what the ring stood for that mattered. I guess for Kelsey, size really does matter.

  So that’s why he was calling last Friday. Would it have been any easier knowing ahead of time? My public humiliation is complete either way. Of all the ways he could have announced their engagement, did he have to do it in front of all our friends, at the most important social function of the year?

  ***

  “If I’d know he was going to be there, with her...” Leah trails off, taking a sip from her wine.

  “What, you wouldn’t have gone? It wouldn’t have made any difference,” I tell her.

  I usually love the spaghetti vongole at our favorite Italian restaurant, but I have little appetite tonight and give up, laying my fork on the side of the plate.