by Racquel Reck
Why are my stupid emotions ruining this for me? Why do I care about what he thinks of me?
"You’re not a basket case." His breath at my ear tickles, pushing heat through me. I scissor my legs. He nuzzles my neck and breathes in, sending a sharp bout of chills racing across my skin. "I moved too fast."
"No." I groan. Now I remember why. "I’ve only had sex with one person, and I haven’t had sex in three years." I grab the panties, but don’t put them on because he won't let go of them.
His hand trails lazy circles on my hip bone. And I wish he’d move that hand lower, almost as much as I wish he’d stop. I want him, but my stupid insecurity is the big roadblock in my path to satisfaction. He wants to pleasure me. I’m not used to receiving it. Sex has always been about pleasuring the man, making sure he gets off. Gary trained me well. From not receiving it, I find pleasure in giving it. It’s all I know.
"You’re gorgeous. I’m sure you couldn’t disappoint me if you tried. But if you want me to stop, I will." He lets go of my panties and backs up.
He's so patient. Kind. Is great with my son. And nothing like Gary. My heart expands. How could I even think he'd be like Gary in the sex department?
I stop him. Reaching behind me, I pull him against my back. My involuntary action, I have no idea where the hell it came from, just chucked all my caution out the fucking window. Open for business. Or is it closed due to temporary insanity? Dammit. Why can’t I make up my mind?
"I’m embarrassed about the way my face looks when I come." Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?
Time ticks by in silence as I anticipate his laughter.
Morgan
She’s got to be the sexiest, cutest woman I’ve ever met. I can’t wrap myself around the fact that this blunt and aggressive person is shy about anything. Facial features? Seriously?
Maybe I didn’t do anything right and this is an excuse to get out of it. I should let her go and forget we started anything, but my dick has other plans. It doesn’t want to go down and somewhere inside of me, even though I know it’s an asshole thing to do, wants me to push a little. It’s telling me nothing will go anywhere past what I did to her on the bed if I don’t try a little harder. That might push her away instead.
I don’t know what to do. I’m confused. Maybe this is a bad idea, going here with her. But then why did she pull me toward her when I tried to back up? I say the only thing that makes sense to me. "You’re sexy-beautiful. And whatever faces you make, trust me, funny won’t even be a thought in my mind. I don't want to force you into something you’ll regret, so if you're not ready for this I won't do it." It will kill me. "I’ll back off."
I nuzzle her ear and she giggles, but catches herself. "I love your sweet giggles."
She turns in my arms and drops her panties to the floor. Putting her arms around my neck, she kisses me hard. Heat goes through me and my fading erection throbs to life. She backs me up to the bed as her soft hand slips down into my pajama pants and grabs me.
Fuck, yeah! My cock twitches.
She gasps. Her sea green eyes are wide. "You’re big."
I suppress the chuckle rising in my chest. Not going to ruin this moment. Her comment has somehow made my dick even harder. My knees hit the bed and we fall back onto it. But she doesn’t climb on top of me. She takes off her T-shirt and chucks it. Her bare breasts are before me and I want nothing more than to take them into my mouth.
I wet my lips.
She pushes me back down and shakes her head then slowly removes my PJs and boxer briefs. Her soft hands massage my thighs and she brushes her cheek along the side of my shaft.
Shit! My heart works overtime. Is it possible to have a heart attack at thirty-three?
She’s smiling, then licks the drop weeping from my tip.
I groan and flex my hips. She smiles and lightly licks the tip again. "I’ve fantasized about doing this to you while you’re in my chair."
Down with the BJs. She couldn't be more perfect for me. That fantasy will come true. I'm gonna make sure of— Her mouth glides down and pulls me deep into her throat. My body coils with the need to explode. She moans. The vibrations have me jacking my hips off the bed. She holds me down, a prisoner to her slow licks and hard sucks. She glances up and grins around my cock, driving me completely fucking insane.
She tortures me with her tongue and the gentle scrape of her teeth to the point where I can’t take it anymore. I fist the blankets so that I don’t grab her hair and force her to choke. I feel my orgasm creeping up inside me, my balls tighten and just when I can’t hold it in any longer she stops and crawls across the bed. She positions herself on her hands and knees. Then looks back at me.
That look. More blood surges to my cock, if that’s even possible. If she’s implying what I think she is, that’s no way to go about our first time. And I definitely want to do this with her again. But doing it doggy-style won’t give me the visual I want. I want to look into her eyes as I come. Where in the hell did that thought come from?
"I need to do it this way."
"Shay, are you sure about this? I can–"
"Morgan, fuck me. I want you to."
Well, how can a guy say no to that? I reach into Wiley’s drawer and pull out a condom.
Her body arches, and she moans as I run my hands down her spine over her gorgeous ass to her slick folds. Her juices coat my fingers, and her pussy clenches around them so tight I can feel it in my cock. I position myself at her entrance and give a slight nudge. She’s tight as all hell and I am by no means small, so I gently ease into her.
She rocks back and slams me to the hilt.
"Fuck!" My fingers dig into her hips. Shit. You don’t want her to think you’re a minute-man.
“You have to move for this to work,” she says.
“Hold on.” I breathe in and take a second to calm myself down. Once the threat of shooting too early subsides, I start my slow assault.
Gripping the sheets, she moves with me and feels too goddamn good. I can’t stop myself. If she wants it hard and rough, that’s what she’s going to get. I thrust into her like a piston then wrap my arm around her to massage that tiny bud and bite down between her shoulder blades.
Her body bucks and she cries out.
Wrapping an arm around her breast, I bring her up to me, as far as her ass will let her lean back. I bury my face into her black-and-white hair. Breathing in her scent, I pound into her and try to keep up my rhythm. Her tight core twitches. Waves pulsate, squeezing my cock, bringing my body to new heights.
She rotates her hips and a spasm shoots through me, if I’m not careful I’ll get off before she does. Ah, fuck. If this is how she feels with a condom…
She explodes around me. The sound of our slapping skin bounces off the walls in the room.
"Morgan!" Her body shakes and her clenching stops. She moans and pushes back into me. "Fuck me harder."
Her command cranks me higher. I grip her hips. Ultimate pleasure has my heart pounding adrenaline through my body. I’m going to lose it. Riding the high, I grip her breasts, hugging her to me. She constricts around me and it’s the sweetest fucking feeling in the world. My body stiffens. Balls tighten. I crush her sweet body against mine as I detonate.
I’m flying. My muscles are languid. And as I’m coming back down from somewhere out in the galaxy, she sighs with satisfaction and drops to the bed beneath me.
Shit. I’m not even high. Yeah, I am. I’m high off her. If this is what it feels like to have sober sex, I’m going do everything I can to go here with her again.
Kissing her between her shoulder blades, I pull out and roll over to the side so I won’t crush her. We are both breathing heavy. I can’t move. Silence fills the room for a good five minutes.
Need to take the condom off. Groaning, I roll over and sit up. Glancing down, my chest constricts.
Fuck!
Laying shredded around my dick is the remains of the condom. I can’t get that thing off fast enough, half scar
ed shitless that she’ll see it and freak out. I hurl it into the garbage can like it’s on fire and sit on the bed facing away from her.
A million thoughts fly through my mind all at once. Sweat drips from my brow as my heart pounds in my chest.
What am I going to do? My hands dig through my hair and I choke back the hangman’s knot in my throat. What if I got her pregnant? I’m far from ready to be anyone’s daddy. I’m sure I’d figure it out, though. Panic flares in my gut. Oh, God. Giving a kid the curse of my genetic makeup is something I told myself I’d never do. Not if it means watching the child get sick and die like Carla.
"Shay." The chaos of my nerves makes my voice shake.
She says nothing.
A soft snore comes from behind me. Turning around, I watch her eyes move under her lids. She looks so peaceful. Delicate. After the night she’s had, do I really have to wake her and tell her now? No. I can wait until morning.
Grabbing the comforter from the end of the bed, I cover us. I’ve never slept in a bed with a woman before. Never felt the need to after our fun and games were done. But she’s exhausted and so am I. And I might have just gotten her pregnant. Pushing aside my doubts and fears, all I want to do is forget about everything and bask in the afterglow of what we did. I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my body. She lets out a soft sigh and it sends a slow, comforting warmth through me. The softness of her skin, the scent of her hair, and her shallow breathing chase everything away. It makes me never want to leave this bed. There’s no place I’d rather be.
Eleven
Morgan
My arms fly across the bed. Huh? Maybe Shay’s an early riser. I glance at the clock and can’t believe I slept in so late—it’s almost noon.
I scrub my face, hauling my ass out of bed, and pull up my pajama pants. Last night was incredible. Sure, I’ve had some wild kinky sex over the years, but it was like her sole mission was to make me lose my mind.
Damn. I shake my head and chuckle.
I briefly glance at the garbage can and see the condom from the night before. Holy shit! I forgot. My heart rate speeds. I stare at it. It all makes perfect sense, and it’s my worst fucking nightmare. I always use a condom, but I’ve never used one that was so tight before. Shit. I’ve been so careful. A little fun in the sack isn’t worth a lifetime of misery if I caught an STD.
What if I got her pregnant?
My head drops. Should’ve listened to Wiley. I’m not ready for a kid and Shay doesn’t need another. I have to talk to her. We need to come up with a plan, and I have to make some calls. She’s probably clean, but just in case I need to get tested. Before our romp I was disease free, made damn sure that I never put myself in the position to catch anything. Fuck!
I make quick work of showering and getting ready, then follow the smell of bacon down the hall toward the kitchen. The only one in there is Wiley.
He’s drinking his coffee and looks up from his laptop. "Wild night?" He scowls then turns his eyes back to the computer. "Must have been. Your girl was walking funny this morning."
“Watch it, Wiley. I’m not fucking around.” I repress a growl and the urge to smash my friend’s face in. I don’t want to seem like a dick in front of Shay, and I don’t want to scare Ben. If Wiley and I go a round, the noise will draw attention.
Grabbing myself a mug from the top shelf, I look out the window. Snowbanks line the driveway that’s been plowed. Odd. The storm was really kicking last night. "Who plowed the driveway?"
"Tryst. Then he took Shay and Ben to meet the tow guy." His eyes are focused on the screen.
They’re gone? Shit. I really don’t want to have this convo over the phone with her, but it needs to be done. After piling a plate full of cold eggs and warm bacon, I head toward my room.
"Where’re you going?" Wiley’s behind me.
I don’t want to have this convo in front of him. It’s none of his goddamn business what happened. "I have some calls to make."
"What kind of calls?"
Wiley and I share everything. It normally doesn’t bother me when he gets into my business; we’ve always got each other’s backs. But this... somehow it’s on a whole other level of personal I don’t want him on. This is between Shay and me. Not Shay, Wiley, and me.
I turn around.
He’s standing in the hall, glaring. "Going to call your girlfriend, aren’t you? Well, you’ll be hitting a ton of voice mails. She made Tryst take her this morning, saying she wanted to be gone before you got up. I don’t know what you did, but she darted out of here faster than a jackrabbit hopped up on speed."
Maybe she did see the busted condom. Now she’s running.
"Fuck off." Juggling my coffee cup and plate of breakfast, I open my door, and once I’m through, I slam it in his face.
After setting everything down on the nightstand, I take a couple of bites while I wait for Wiley’s footsteps to leave the hall. What if I scared her? What if she’s afraid to face me? I take a bite of bacon and my stomach clenches. Can’t handle this shit.
I pick up my cell and scroll through the contacts until I find her number. My gut does a little rock-and-roll as I hit the call and listen to it ring. The ringing knots my nerves and her voice mail kicks on.
"Hey, you’ve reach Shay at Razor’s Edge. Drop a name and a number and I’ll hit you back."
Fuck. I have no idea what to say. I need a blunt. Is it Saturday yet? There’s a beep. "Hey, it’s me, Morgan. Uh...you ran outta here kinda fast. I wanted to talk to you about—"
Beep.
"Press one to hear your message. Two to re-record–"
I press two.
"Please leave your message after the beep."
What the hell do I say?
Beep!
"Hey, Shay. It’s me, Morgan. I had fun last night. But I think we need to talk." That’s right, right? Resisting the urge to press two again, I press the star button and hang up. I hope that was the right thing to say. Why would she run? More importantly, why the hell does it hurt? If the woman won’t talk to me, I’m not going to chase her. Bryan’s pussy whipped. That sure as hell isn’t gonna be me.
His and Lina’s love is gag worthy. It’s one of the reasons we didn’t invite them on this trip. Bryan follows her around waiting for her orders and that’s not going to be me. I like Shay, I have mad respect for her, being a mother to her son and all. She’s got a super-hot body and is dynamite in the sack, but I’m not in love with her. I don’t think I’ll ever have it in me to love a woman.
Running a hand through my hair, my knee bobs up and down. I need pot so goddamn bad. Tryst is no longer here. Only Wiley. I wonder if he has any more. Fuck it. I need a blunt.
Twelve
Shay
Staring into the bowl, I flush. Then glance up at Bebe. She’s handing me a Mt. Dew bottle, one pierced eyebrow cocked. She’s a great friend, but this whole time I spent vomiting, she’s been lecturing me about not talking to Morgan. It’s been two weeks since the cabin and I’ve been avoiding him. He keeps calling. I’m afraid to see him. If he wants to go another round… My feelings from that night were a little more than I can handle. He’ll play me. I’m not down to be his fuck buddy. Wiley told me how he operates.
Sighing, I take the bottle, unscrew the cap, and take a swig, washing the remainder of the foul taste out of my mouth.
Pregnant.
That’s what the evil white stick said two days ago. Okay, so maybe evil isn’t the right word. I’m not upset, but I’m not happy either. I have enough responsibilities as it is. Adding another baby to the mix of my jacked-up life, having it go through what Gary and I put Ben through, has my stomach twisting again.
This will mess everything up for Morgan, and it’s not like he’s to blame. He put the condom on. I’m not going to let him fuck up his career because something happened that’s out of our control. So I’m avoiding him.
My stomach has stopped churning, and I laugh to lighten the mood. "I don’t know what the hell
I ate. I swear I’m never eating from that Mexican restaurant again." Of course, this is a lie. I know why I’ve been in and out of the bathroom all afternoon. But I’m not telling anyone. Not yet.
"You need to pull yourself together, girl. You have a client in half an hour." Bebe shoves off the sink and exits the bathroom.
I straighten up and wash my mouth out in the sink. My stomach feels like I’ve swallowed a boat-load of cement. Inhaling, I try to calm my aching belly. Glancing at the clock, I see that Bebe’s right. I have a client in half an hour. One who used to be Gary’s. He probably won’t show though. Gary got out three days ago and more than likely has called all his clients wanting to do work on them. My forehead hits the mirror and I groan.
The bell up front rings.
"Oh, you’re early." Bebe’s talking to someone, and being purposely loud so I’ll hear.
A warning.
Who’s out there with her? Morgan?
After wiping my mouth on a piece of paper towel, I head out of the bathroom.
"No time like the present." The deep familiar voice shackles my legs to the ground.
Although I can’t see through the beaded curtain, I know who it is. Looking back at the bathroom door, I consider hiding. That won’t accomplish anything, just prolong the inevitable. That man is everywhere and will continue to be. Steeling my resolve not to fall into a blubbering mess, I part the curtain.
Gary’s blond hair is a little shaggier than I remember. Blue eyes roam over me and pin my feet to the floor. His lip quirks up in that half smile, half creepy sneer I know so well.
"Lookin’ good, Bay." He cocks his head. "I’ve missed you."
No! This cannot be happening. I knew this day would come. He wants his job back. I eye him and grip the counter for support. My knees are weak and my nerves are tap dancing all over my body. Prison has beefed him up, or maybe it’s the lack of heroin that makes him look wickedly sexy. Yeah, I shouldn’t even be putting him and sexy in the same category. My heart flips and I slowly make my way behind the counter.
