by Kara Hart
“She’s mad that you haven’t said a word to her all day,” he says.
My head turns faster than a bullet shot out of a rifle. I glare at him with all the malice in the world. I mouth the words, Do not, and say, “I have no idea what he’s talking about, but it’s not the truth.”
“Are you really mad at me for not talking to you?” Michael asks.
I hang my head in shame. “I could care less what you do, Michael.” I sigh.
Hanson stands up and extends his hands in peace. “I’m just messing with you. She didn’t say anything of the sort,” he says.
“So, you’re just being a dick, as usual. Got it,” Michael says. Hanson frowns and grabs the food from him.
“At least there’s pizza,” he says.
Michael ignores him and looks at me. He motions for me to follow him inside. “Hanson, I’m going to check on Lisa real quick. Hold down the fort,” he says.
“Sure thing.”
I walk in behind him and shut the door. Lisa is sitting calmly on her bed, writing in her diary. When she looks up at Michael, we know almost immediately that we’re imposing on her. “Sorry,” he says. “Just checking in.”
“It’s fine,” she says.
When he looks at his daughter, his eyes look happy and full of life. His body seems to light up and his face is prideful. Lisa looks at him like he is everything. I sort of know the feeling, unfortunately. He’s perfect. Perfectly unavailable.
“So… what was it you wanted to show me?” I ask.
Again, he motions for me to follow him to a separate area of the house. We enter the kitchen, the first time I’ve seen it, and he leans against a counter. “Well, you have a wonderful kitchen.” I laugh.
“Come here,” he says. “I’ve been dying to see you.”
“It’s only been hours,” I say, but I’m moving toward him without any hesitance.
“I still can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers.
I fall into his arms, feeling them clasp around my waist. I lower my face and our lips meet, bringing the warmth I had thought I had lost, back into my body. I admit, “I can’t either,” as I lower my head onto his chest.
It’s a revelation I don’t want to utter out loud, but I can’t help how I feel. It’s been tearing at me all night. He’s the hottest guy on the planet, by far, and he wants me. I’m just some damaged girl who fled her crazy ex to start a new life. I’ve never felt like I was anything special, but to him, I am. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me. I can feel it by the way he touches me.
But a question begs to be answered. Will this sentiment last? Dennis used to say all those things. He used to be sweeter than syrup to me. Then, about a year into the relationship, everything changed. Things got real. Personalities came to the forefront and our true selves were revealed. Unfortunately, he took me with a grain of salt. Now, I’m here, crumbling before another man.
“It’s dangerous,” I reply.
“I didn’t want to say anything today because I didn’t want to come off as too obvious. You know how Hanson is,” he says.
“It’s okay.” I kiss him.
“No. It’s not. I should know how to act around you, but sometimes I don’t know the protocol. Wanting someone this much, desiring someone this much, is new to me. Even with Susan, there wasn’t this much need. I need to feel you again, Emily. I need to taste you. I need to—”
“I need you too, but this is bad, Michael,” I say. “Where can this lead to? Nowhere good, right? I mean, you have a child to take care of. You have Susan to deal with, and the business you own together. I don’t fit into the equation.”
“Fuck all that. If things work, they work. You know that’s how it goes,” he says. “I don’t want to have to think about any of that. I just want to think about you bending over this kitchen counter. I want to think about how good you’ll feel underneath me.”
His hand falls to the center of my pants. I feel myself grow warm, dewy, and moist. My breathing quickens and I’m forced to take a step back. “You’re wet,” he says. “Aren’t you?”
I don’t know how to react. My heart is beating so fast. I just nod, slowly, while fidgeting with my fingers. He smiles when I nod. “Show me,” he says.
Again, I don’t say a word. I slowly unzip my pants and slide them down to my thighs. “Turn around,” he says. I turn around and bend over the kitchen counter for him. He moves closer to me, standing right behind me. He runs his hand down, from my neck to my panties, and pulls the white cotton all the way down to my ankles.
My skin grows tight as I feel his hand move toward my pussy. Goose bumps press up against my skin. The dripping wetness slides down my leg, as he kisses the top of my ass, unable to help himself. His palm moves flat and firm against my lips. I let out a deep moan of ecstatic anticipation, waiting for him. Just waiting.
“God damn. You’re so wet, baby,” he moans.
I reach down and pull up my panties. I push against him with my ass. He steps back in disbelief. “Later,” I tell him. “Not right now. We have work to do and I’m hungry.”
He’s holding the center of his jeans. The imprint of his massive cock is on proud display, right in front of me. I stare at it and breathe heavily. It’s crazy how much he turns me on and just how much I specifically turn him on. As I walk back into the garage, I have a big smile on my face.
“She’s cute, huh?” Hanson asks.
“What?” I sit down and get back to work.
“Lisa. His little girl. She’s cute,” he mutters.
“Oh yeah.” I laugh. “She’s the best.”
Michael comes in next. Tonight, he’ll invite me into his house. I’ll slip out of my dress and he’ll take me into bed. This is our dirty secret, and I have to admit, I love keeping it.
Emily
“Come over.” The two words I’ve been waiting to hear all night. Foot to the pedal, a few turned corners, and I’m inside his dark house, in that kitchen again.
“I’ve missed you,” he says.
“No you haven’t,” I whisper. “You just miss what I didn’t give you earlier.”
He grabs my waist and smiles. “Well, I did miss that too,” he says. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re always on my fucking mind.”
“You’ve got issues. Obsessive tendencies, maybe.” I wink.
“That’s putting it mildly. I’ve been hard for the past three hours. The sight of you bending over in front of me was too much to handle,” he says.
“Good boy,” I say. I kiss his cheek and pull away. I walk over to the counter and bend over. “Go on.”
He rips my pants down. He rolls my panties to my ankles. He kisses my ass and slides his tongue down, until he meets my lips. He eats me like a high hanging fruit, not yet ready to be juiced; yet, his thirst has brought him there regardless.
I push my ass against his face. His tongue curls inside of me. He pulls on my lips and smacks my ass hard. I feel the sting rise up into the back of my throat. He spanks me again, and again, and again, until I beg him for more. Of course, when I do, he’s moved onto the next act. He’s ripping his own pants off. He wants to show me what he’s had in store for me all day.
“You’re going to make me lose it, woman,” he says.
I already know. I know how I make him squirm. Sometimes, I doubt myself, of course. But right now, it’s obvious just how much he needs me.
The first push is always the best feeling in the world. He fills me with his cock, like no other man has been able to. I’m packed to the brim, nearly unable to take him in. He groans with pleasure and my breath comes out hot and heavy. “Deeper,” I tell him. I want him to push the limits. I want to feel every bit of him.
He pushes his body over mine, cupping my breasts in his hands. His thumb circles around my nipple, hard and erect from excitement. He runs his fingers up to my collarbone. Up to my neck, he grips again and I am thoroughly satisfied. Michael Vanderbilt is a man of epic proportions. He is this to
wn’s best-kept secret and I’m not letting any woman know.
“I want to look into your eyes,” he whispers.
He spins me around, pushing my ass onto the counter. He lifts my legs up and spits downward. When he slides in, he’s rock hard and gripping my thighs even harder. “You’re perfect,” he keeps telling me. I can’t take a compliment worth shit, but it gets me wetter than a rainstorm.
He puts his hand over my soft stomach and feels me. He likes me for who I am. He adores me. At least, that’s how it feels when I’m with him. The way he touches me with ferocious masculinity, coupled with his deep passion, makes me feel a rush of pleasure.
I soon begin to let go of all inhibitions. I fall into him, emotionally and physically, one hundred percent. I let myself be in the moment. There are no thoughts now, but there is him and what he gives me. He fucks me hard, but moves slow, while remaining close to me. All the while, he whispers in my ear, sweet nothings, like, “I’ll never be able to get you out of my head.”
Quicker than I thought, he works me up to a tipping point. With his hands behind my lower back, positioning me just right, I feel everything inside of me swell up, tense and pulling. Away, my mind drags from my body, as if I was given wings. Tonight, I’m his angel, and he’s taking me past the pearly gates, to a nearby trove, where he can fuck me and use me forever.
My eyes close and tear up. My teeth chatter. It’s the kind of feeling that makes your toes curl and palms turn sweaty. I grip around his neck, but don’t let on. When he kisses me, however, I’m sent elsewhere. A sharp, pin-prick pops inside of me, forcing my eyes wide open again. My mouth drops, loose and wide.
I try to mumble something, but I can’t. The orgasm is so fucking strong, much stronger than last time because there is more emotion tied to it now. I’m all wrapped up in Michael, spinning to and fro, and it feels like being born again. Yes! That’s exactly what it’s like. Being born and dying at the same time. When I come back to, I’m a new woman, complete with a huge, radiant smile.
Satisfied with pleasing me, he picks me up and holds me in his arms. He sets me against the kitchen wall and slides back into his warm comfort. He grips the bottom of my ass and holds me steady. He bounces me up and down with balance and precision. “I want to fuck you a million times over,” he says.
“Then do it,” I whisper. He smiles. If only. If only life could just be this. No work, just fucking him and falling asleep to each other’s kisses.
But there comes a time when you know a man has to relieve all his tension. When his muscles grow tight and his hands hold you harder than ever before, you know he’s trying his damn hardest not to let go. With a heavy groan, he tilts his head back and I feel his cock grow bigger inside of me. It trembles, until it erupts, like a volcano or seismic explosion. I feel him inside me, losing everything he’s kept in store. He pushes in as deep as he can go, fading fast into me.
He kisses me so passionately, as if I’m the purest thing in the world, as if I was made out of solid gold. He sets me down onto my feet and the world seems to sway beneath me. When I stumble, he holds me steady. When I laugh, he kisses my cheek and smiles.
We slowly make our way upstairs, into his bed, and under the covers. There’s no question of whether or not I’m spending the night tonight. It’s obvious that I need to, that I need to feel close to him. Am I being a sucker for this man? Is he still hung up on the past? I don’t know. Right now, in this heavy moment, I don’t want to answer any questions. I just want to feel his body and know that I’m what he wants.
“Emily Carter,” he whispers.
“Michael Vanderbilt.”
“I’m really glad I met you,” he says.
“I’m glad I met you too.”
In the silence of the world around us, normally buzzing with chaotic entrances and exits, we lay holding one another. The energy we want, we grab in slow kisses and short laughter. We talk around the idea of how good this is making us feel. All in all, I’ve never felt better, but that comes with a deep worry. There’s always the wonder of whether or not this is real, or just something our minds are making us feel. Is it a misunderstanding of emotions? Or will this really last longer than first expected?
We don’t approach the subject. There’s no need to. If we did, we wouldn’t be able to find any answers. No, right now, we close our eyes in silence. We smile. We hold the feeling in like laughing gas. And when our dreams do finally come, we’re always near each other, waiting to wake up in each other’s arms.
Michael
I wake up and she’s fucking gone. Gone, gone, gone. “Emily,” I whisper, rolling over. I expect her to be enclosed within me. I thought I’d wake up smelling her hair, or holding her soft tits, with my morning wood against her ass. None of that this morning. She’s gone away.
“Fuck,” I sigh. I roll out of bed and check my phone. 11 AM. Thank God it’s Saturday. No work. No plans. I just get to relax with Lisa. Then, I realize what today really means. Susan. She’s coming to get her today and then I’ll really be alone.
I walk out into the hallway, open Lisa’s door and find my little princess, lying down and staring at the ceiling. “Morning, my beautiful girl,” I whisper.
“Morney,” she says back, jokingly. It hurts my heart when she says anything to me. I know in a year’s time, my heart will be constantly falling apart.
I sit next to her and kiss the top of her head, just like I used to do. “Ugh, stop,” she mutters.
“You want some breakfast?” I ask her. She doesn’t say a word back. She just gets out of bed and walks right past me. “Yeah, you need some breakfast.”
I walk downstairs and smell delicious bacon, eggs, French toast… “Susan?” I call out, thinking she’s already here to get her daughter. “You said you’d be here around two. It’s a little early, don’t you think?”
“Susan?” Emily is standing, holding a spatula in her hand, with a confused look in her eyes. “Wow.”
“Shit, I didn’t know you stayed. I woke up and you were gone. I thought you left,” I say.
“I thought I’d make you breakfast,” she mutters. Shit. She seems irritated. I shouldn’t have called her Susan. That was a bad mistake. Although, it was an innocent one.
“Um, Susan is going to come get Lisa. That’s why I thought—”
“It’s fine. I understand. Don’t worry,” she says. But after a few seconds of awkward silence, she continues, “So, like… do I have to leave or something?”
Good question. “You don’t have to leave,” I say. “But maybe we can eat breakfast and hang out in bed today.”
That pisses her off. She fires at me, hard. “So she won’t see me when she comes? You’re going to hide me in the closet, just so she doesn’t yell at you?”
“It’s not as black and white as you think. There’s a lot of nuance to the whole thing,” I sigh and move closer to her. “I don’t want her. I want you. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“It does mean something. I just feel confused, I guess.” She sighs. “Anyway, breakfast is ready.”
“Look, if she sees me fucking around with an employee, she can use it against me. She can take away Lisa anytime she wants,” I say. “Hell, she could ruin the business if she really wanted to.”
“She’s not going to do either of those things. She knows she needs you to help with Lisa, and she needs money. She’s not going to give up your business,” she says.
“You’re right. But she’ll make me go through hell first,” I say. Eventually, I’ll have to face this. I know that. And I’m not about to let my ex-wife boss me around. Right now, however, is not the time to go fucking things up in my life. I have to take a different perspective and go with my gut strategy. I have no idea what Emily is to me in this very moment, and neither does she. Will this last? Can this last? Do we even want it to? Those are questions we haven’t decided to answer, or even broach yet.
“Whatever,” she says. “It’s fine. I guess I just don’t know where I stand in
all of this. I feel weird.”
“I like being near you,” I say. “I like holding you. I like touching you. I love fucking you.”
“Well, I’m glad you like being around me.” She moves away from me, feeling stunted. I try and move closer, but she just takes on the task of putting the breakfast on plates.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say. “Come on. Emily, let’s just have a nice day, alright?”
“I said, it’s fine,” she says. She sits down at the table, without me, and begins eating her food. I’m left to slowly walk to that same table and sit down, with slight shame.
I take a few bites of food and sigh with pleasure. It’s really fucking good. In fact, it’s the best damn breakfast I’ve had in a long while. “Wow,” I mutter to myself and close my eyes.
“What?” she asks, loosening up a little.
“This food. My God. You’re incredible,” I say.
“Stop.” She blushes. “You’re just trying to make up for everything.”
“No, I’m being serious. I should have just hired you to be my personal chef,” I laugh.
I place my hand on her thigh and squeeze. The room turns silent. I turn back to Emily and everything in my body starts to feel heavy. My head feels weak. “I like it when you touch me,” she whispers.
I nod. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. There’s an undeniable barrier between us. The worst part is that it has nothing to do with our actions. It has everything to do with what surrounds us. Our past. We’ve both suffered too much, both been tainted by expectation and the letdown that people love to dish out.
I stand up and she wipes her eyes a little. I don’t want to make her sad. I don’t want her to have any pain. I know I’m a shitty guy for putting her in this position. I shouldn’t have hired her. I should have let her go. I deserve to be alone. I wasn’t meant for love. I was destined for other things.
“Lisa, want some food?” I ask.
I grab some food from the fridge and prepare everything. It’s going to be a long fucking day. I already know it. I give Lisa her food and Emily comes and sits next to us. “You look cute today” she smiles. Her eyes are bright, warm, and loving. She’s tender, the way I’ve always pictured the woman next to me to be.
