* * *
Shortly afterwards, we’re lying on his bed, naked, our wet hair dripping on the pillow. His hands run over my damp skin as we kiss. “You are spectacular,” he whispers. “But I wasn’t planning on that. I only need fifteen minutes or so, and the show can go on.” He slides a hand down between my legs and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
All the sex we’ve been having has changed me into a supersexual being. Maybe he’s a sex god. Maybe it’s the two-year dry spell. All I know is that every time Liam touches me I turn into a panting crazy person.
Liam groans again as he touches me. He heartily approves of my response to him. “Forget fifteen minutes,” he says. “I only need five.” He grips his burgeoning erection and gives himself a slow stroke.
I watch him and lick my lips.
“See something you like? How do you want the cock, honey?”
I bury my smile in his neck. “I can’t do dirty talk. I just can’t. I try to use anatomically correct words.”
“Why?” He strokes himself again and I have to clench my thighs together. My reluctance to talk about sex sure doesn’t translate into a reluctance to do it.
“Well, so I don’t sound crude.”
He smiles. “Okay, fine. But when we’re naked, I’m thinking very crude thoughts about you. But I could try to be more anatomically correct.”
“You don’t have to,” I say, and then blush furiously.
“Let’s experiment,” he says, reaching out to stroke a hand down my very naked body. “Here’s how it is with me. When I see your breasts, my blood flows toward my pelvis, swelling my penis to medically significant proportions.”
I giggle in spite of myself.
“This causes primary and secondary arousal reactions. My heart rate increases, especially if you’re touching yourself, or touching me. My testicles become tighter. And I experience a sudden release of…” He leans over and whispers in my ear. “Oxytocin, baby.”
I die. But he’s not done.
“You’ll feel it, too,” he continues. “When I rub my hand all over my glans,” he does this very thing as he rolls a condom down his length. “…Your mouth will water. Your nipples will experience increased blood flow. Your breasts might swell. When I touch your labia and your clitoris, nerve endings will send a signal to your brain with a message.”
“What message?” I gasp as his thick fingers swirl between my legs.
“The cock wants the pussy. Duh.”
He climbs on top of me as I draw his smile closer to mine. He smells of expensive shampoo and naked man. And then he slides inside me and I’m not smiling anymore. I’m too lost in the heat and the stretch as my body accommodates the hottest, most amazing man I’ve ever known in my life.
He makes love to me…No he fucks me in long, slow strokes, until I lose my mind.
12 Samosas at Sunset
Liam
We lie on my bed for a long time afterward. I can hear the call of seagulls and the distant sound of waves lapping against the lakeshore.
Sex with Sadie always burns up all the stresses in my life. When I’m inside her, it’s like being home in the best kind of way. It’s like feeling a missing piece of myself click into place.
And it’s not just when we’re having sex. Just being around her is enough to make me feel...whole. This has never happened to me before, and I have to admit that it scares me a little.
Because I know I will probably lose her, and I know it will hurt.
True story—I’ve always had a thing for older women. I blame my longstanding Sadie fascination. My last girlfriend was thirty-six. She really wasn’t interested in a long-term commitment. She was looking for a boy toy, and I was happy to play that role. We eventually got tired of each other and said goodbye. No big loss. We shared a toast to good times and moved on.
But as I listen to Sadie’s heartbeat slow down, I know I’m starting to feel a tug. I spent her massage hour going over the specs of the study I’ll be conducting this fall. A few months from now I’ll be in Edinburgh or maybe Rome. Six months ago, that’s what I thought I wanted.
But now I’m not so sure. I dread leaving Sadie. If I wasn’t leaving, I feel like we’d have a chance for our fling to grow into something much more.
She’s not there yet. I know this. She doesn’t see the potential. I’m afraid if I take off for Europe, she never will.
These are my thoughts as Sadie stretches and yawns. Reluctantly I release her, and she slides off the bed. I ogle her naked body as she unzips her duffel bag and pulls out a sundress, which she slips over her head.
There’s nothing under that dress, fourteen-year-old Liam points out. We can see the outline of her beautiful body!
He’s right. I’m tempted to ask her to stand on the dock while I prep dinner so I can just watch the sun set behind her. But that would be a little awkward, and we’ll have even more fun if we’re cooking together.
“It’s chow time,” I say, sitting up. “Dinner was delivered. Shall we put it together?”
“Of course.” Sadie smiles at me, and it’s like someone is plucking on my heartstrings.
Since when am I such a sap? Oh, right. Since the moment I kissed her after our trek to the park. I haven’t really been the same since.
I take her hand and lead her into my parents’ ridiculous kitchen. I’m the only one who ever cooks in here, I swear. My parents dine out for ten meals a week. No lie.
“Whoa,” Sadie says when she opens the refrigerator. “You have a whole grocery store of ingredients here,” she says. “I thought you were just going to keep it simple. I thought you were ordering in.”
“I did order in,” I say. “I ordered the groceries. Emil’s Vineyard delivers.” I’m a little smug about this, because I have no doubt that if Sadie doesn’t already love me just a little bit, she will after dinner. “Plus, cooking relaxes me.”
We’ve got the lake in front of us, a sunset in an hour or so. First things first. I open up a bottle of wine and pour two glasses. “You want to be my sous chef?” I ask.
“Sure. What are we having?”
“Potato and pea samosas and grilled masala white fish. And rice.”
Sadie frowns. “That sounds...complicated. I’m rusty in the kitchen. At my house lately, ‘cooking’ means just cutting food into pieces a two-year-old can’t choke on.”
“Don’t worry. This stuff is easy. I’ll show you. And I already made the samosa dough.” It was the first thing I did while Sadie was getting her massage.
“Okay…” she says.
“Come here,” I say. Not because I want to show her how to cook, I just want to wrap my arms around her and breathe her into me. After a bit, I let go. “First, we roll out the dough and then stuff the samosas. We can fry or bake them. And the fish...we just stuff it, slather on some marinade, and it’ll go on the grill.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t quite believe me. “It’s easy,” I say as I attach the pasta maker to the counter. The roller works great for samosas. I’m in my zone right now. “Grab my phone and choose some music. Then I’ll show you how to roll these out. You roll, I’ll stuff,” I say.
She laughs. “Ooh baby.”
We work together, making more samosas than we can possibly eat. We fall into a quiet rhythm together. I like it way too much. We wash our hands and she fills the rice cooker with rice and water without my asking. I score the fish and begin to stuff it with lemon, fresh coriander, and a few chilis.
“How’d you learn how to do all of this?” she asks.
“What, cook?”
“Yeah, cook. I mean I can prepare basic recipes, but this feels like a whole new level. This is like cooking show genius happening.”
I blush like a smitten teenager. “It’s hardly genius level. I was shooting for Super Romantic and Somewhat Impressive. But I learned to cook because of my parents.”
“Oh, were they trained at Le Cordon Bleu or something?”
“No, the opposite.
” I rub coriander into the white fish. Once it’s slathered in sauce and then grilled to flaky perfection? Yum. It’s enough to get me a little turned on. “That summer you spent with us—did you see them cook anything?”
“No.”
“Right. They order in or have the cook do it.” It’s so embarrassing. “My parents think all labor is beneath them. I think I learned to cook just to spite them. Or at least to balance that out.”
“Feeding themselves is beneath them?”
“Sure. And so is parenting.” I try to make this sound lighthearted, but she can probably see through me. “You remember. A new nanny every few months. I’m positive that’s what led me to study childcare and psychology. And to Indian spices.” I smile at her.
Sadie puts a hand lightly in the center of my back, letting me know she’s listening.
The rice starts to bubble. The sliding glass doors are wide open, and there’s a breeze kicking up. Life is great, but I can’t seem to stop talking about my screwy family. It’s not something I usually discuss with women. Nobody wants to hear the rich guy complain.
But Sadie gets me. She always has.
“Hey, did you see that my dad is running for circuit court judge?”
“Sure. There are signs in some of the yards in our neighborhood.” She tops up our glasses of wine.
“I think it’s the perfect job for him, since he loves to judge people.” My siblings and I spent our childhoods trying to be good enough for him. The other three all have jobs that he’s proud of. “I’m the black sheep, can you believe that? I’m an embarrassment to the family. They don’t put me on the Christmas card anymore.”
“Why the hell not? That’s so sad!”
“Well, my attitude doesn’t help. The others show up in a suit. I always wear a bad Christmas sweater. I have a collection of those.”
Her smile is wicked. “I need to see that.”
You’ll just have to wait for Christmas, I almost say, but then I remember. By Christmas, I’ll be in Edinburgh, or Italy, or California. Sadie and the girls will open presents without me.
This idea feels impossibly crushing, and in spite of the fine weather and even finer company, I feel my soul sag.
Good thing the fish is ready for the grill. “Let’s go outside, okay?”
“Let’s.” I get another warm smile.
Man, I like this Sadie. I like all the Sadies, but this Sadie, when she’s so fully relaxed and comfortable, it’s such a turn-on. I kiss her once before heading back out to the deck. She tastes like crisp wine and a hint of spice. She tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted.
* * *
Sadie
I cannot quite put into words how divine this dinner is. The fish is spicy and flaky and tastes of summer. The samosas are crisp on the outside and fluffy in the center. Liam whips up some raita, and there are chutneys for dipping.
I’m perfectly content. Seriously. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been this relaxed. I have my occasional nights out with the girlfriends, but those are only a few hours. I’ve been here all evening with Liam and we have the weekend stretching out in front of us.
After dinner, he reads some more journal articles. I read, too. A book. An actual book. And I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had the time or energy to focus on reading without being interrupted by the girls, or Decker, or life in general. It’s so relaxing to lounge outside. The lake laps gently before us. The only other sound is the gentle typing of Liam’s fingers on his laptop as he scrolls through the academic research.
When I look up from my book, I study Liam. He’s wearing shorts and an open shirt. His hair is messy and his reading glasses make him look professorial. My pulse kicks up. And just like that, I’ve lost focus on the book.
Liam has his bare feet stretched out on a lawn chair, so I lift them up, sit down in their place, and then rest his feet in my lap. I begin to rub slow circles into the sole of one foot. Liam has great feet. Not everyone does, and I have the urge to kiss them.
Is my libido unlocked, or what?
I rub his foot a little more firmly, and Liam groans.
It’s an excellent groan.
“You’re distracting me,” he says, the tone suggesting maybe he wants me to keep distracting him.
“Put that computer down and let me distract you some more.”
“So tempting, but let me just finish this page. Then we can watch the sunset and…”
“...And get naked and make love on this here patio furniture?”
“It’s quality furniture,” he says. “It can totally support us.” I squeeze his foot. He smirks.
“Still reading about cognitive intransigence?” Fine. So I looked over his shoulder a couple of times. Sue me.
“Nope.” He frowns over the laptop. “I’m looking over the list of child development centers where my study is happening.”
My hands forget to rub Liam’s foot. “Did they notify you? Do you know where you’re going to be?”
Slowly, he shakes his head. “Still nothing. But they’ll tell me sometime in the next two weeks.”
That is really, really soon. “Where do you think it will be?”
“Not sure,” he says. “I was just reading about their location in Germany.”
“Germany, Michigan?” I ask hopefully.
He laughs. “Germany, Germany. Lederhosen and sausage and beer halls. There’s a child development center there doing some good work.”
I want to laugh but it sort of gets stuck in my throat. Germany? That’s so far. And foreign. “Won’t the children speak German?” I ask. “How could you even work there?”
“It wouldn’t matter,” he tells me. “Because we’re evaluating the children’s motor skills after they learn something from a volunteer or from a video.”
“Oh,” I say slowly. Germany. He’s also applying to something in Scotland, and Italy, I think. After a few short months, I might not see him again.
The idea makes me mentally hyperventilate. Okay, that’s not really a thing. But I’m definitely panicked. Because I know I’m getting too attached to him. Liam was supposed to be my boy toy. A distraction. This is all just sex and fun.
Just like that, my eyes fill with tears.
“I need some more wine,” I lie and make a hasty retreat into the kitchen and then the bathroom. Why are my emotions so out of sync with reality? I’m a single mom who is six years older than him. He’s a sexy bachelor who has his whole future ahead of him.
I’m the cougar. He’s the snack.
So why am I feeling teary? Liam would look sexy in lederhosen, and I won’t get a chance to see it.
I’m not ready for this to end. Not yet.
* * *
Liam
Sadie takes a while to bring out another bottle of wine, but it’s just enough time for me to brood. Our time together is limited. I’ll have another month and a half at the daycare center, then I’ll have a couple of months for research prep before continuing my fellowship overseas.
Six months from now I’ll be somewhere far away, even if I’m not sure where. Yet six months ago, I had my heart set on traveling abroad. Suddenly I hate that idea.
“Come here,” I say as soon as Sadie appears.
She’s carrying two glasses of wine. It’s our favorite Australian white. Fruity. Crisp. Delicious. Perfect for a warm night. She hands me the glass and I set it down on the side table. “Come here,” I repeat and give her a little tug.
I spread my legs and she sits down on the lounge chair with me. She leans back against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her. The sun is just starting to set in streaks of red and orange. There are layers of purple and blue above the horizon, over the lake.
“You can actually hear the sun sink below the horizon,” I say.
“You cannot!” She laughs and sips her wine. She hands me the glass and I take a sip too.
“You can. Watch.”
And we do. We just sit like that, my arms aroun
d her, her leaning into me and watch the sun sink and the world darken. Just when the last of it disappears, I make a pop sound and she giggles.
“Huh,” she says, playing along. “I never noticed that before.”
“Pretty amazing,” I say. “Right?”
There’s a pause and then she says. “You are pretty amazing.”
Then I can’t wait anymore. I move her hair away from her neck and slowly kiss the curve of her until she can’t take it anymore and she turns around and kisses me.
“About getting naked out here and…”
“Fucking al fresco?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she kisses me again.
“I totally meant it,” I say.
And then we don’t say another word.
* * *
On the way home on Sunday, I’m still feeling the weekend glow. “What are you going to do with the rest of your evening?” I ask her.
“Hug my girls,” she says immediately. “And probably wean them off the sugar high they’ll be on from whatever lazy treats their father gave them. You?”
“I’ll probably run five or ten miles and go to the climbing gym.”
“I’m tired just thinking about that.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “You’re tired because I tired you out.” I reach over and palm her thigh. Waking up next to Sadie this morning was amazing, and not just because of the sleepy, Sunday morning sex. It was lovely to lie there and doze and not worry that I’ll accidentally fall asleep in her bed.
Sneaking out at midnight is kind of a buzzkill. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” She lays her hand atop mine.
“At my climbing gym there’s a kids’ wall. I think Kate would really like it. We’re always telling her she can’t climb things. Wouldn’t it be super fun to put a harness on her and say, ‘Have at it, you little monkey’?” The idea makes me grin. “Let’s all go there together next weekend. I’d offer to take them myself, but there’s a one-to-one rule for parents and caregivers.”
Boy Toy Page 10
