by T L Swan
He narrows his eyes as he thinks. “Didn’t you already tell him that?”
I shake my head. “Not in so many words.”
His angry eyes hold mine. “So, what you’re saying is that he still thinks he’s in with a chance?”
I smile and pick up his hand, placing his two middle fingers into my mouth to start sucking them. I rub my tongue back and forth over the end of his fingers and his arousal starts to blaze in his eyes.
“Are you going to distract me with that tongue every time I get angry?”
“Is this distracting?” I whisper through a smile. I suck his fingers hard and his eyes close.
“Lets go home,” he whispers. “My place.” Hmm, I haven’t quiet worked out this casual thing yet. If we go to his house, do I get up and leave in the middle of the night? What happens in this situation?
“Can we go to my house?” I ask.
He frowns. “I would rather go to my house. We have privacy there.”
I smile. “We can go to your place next time. We can be quiet, can’t we?”
He smirks as if I just set him the ultimate challenge. He picks up my hand and fiddles with my ring. “I love this ring.”
My eyes glance down at my precious piece of jewelry. “I know. I had to have it.” He raises a brow in question.
“I saw it in the shop, and, well, you know what happened next.”
“It’s sentimental to me.” He smirks.
“Why?”
“Because you were buying that ring when we met.”
I rest my chin on my hand and practically melt into the table. He is so freaking dreamy.
“Are you a romantic, Alastar?” I whisper.
He kisses my ring and then the back of my hand, his eyes dancing with affection.
“For you, my love… Always.”
* * *
We tiptoe into my apartment like mice. Hank is asleep and Vanessa is still at work.
“Shh.” I put my finger up to Mr. Orgasmic to try and quieten him.
He smiles and gropes my behind, making me giggle as I swat his hand away. We walk into my room. I turn on the lamp and he quietly closes the door, flicks the lock, and then turns and tries to grab me.
“Ah ah.” I hold my hand up in a stop sign.
He frowns.
“I’m undressing you tonight.”
He raises a brow in question.
I have been dying to see his body. I can hardly even remember it. Last time I was so overcome with arousal; I couldn’t think straight.
He smiles sexily and tilts his head. My eyes scan the fine specimen in front of me. It’s like getting to play with my very own Ken doll. My last boyfriend was lovely, sure, but he was nowhere near being in Alastar’s league. I take off his jacket, hang it in my wardrobe, and then I slowly unbutton his white shirt. With each button I unhook, I kiss the skin underneath it. When I make it to his chest I take his erect nipple in my mouth. He tenderly puts his hand on the back of my head and kisses my temple.
I finally get to the last button and I pull his shirt off over his shoulders. My eyes scan the perfect man in front of me. All of my Christmases have come at once. How could I have ever doubted my decision to do this with him? He is naturally broad and athletic, his arms and chest are muscular. His skin is dark and olive, and he has a scattering of dark chest hair that trails delicately to his navel before it disappears into his pants. I hold my breath, unable to breathe though my constricted chest.
He stays silent, allowing me to visually drink him in, as if knowing how badly I need to do this.
I am inexperienced, and maybe God has sent him to me to fulfill my every fantasy before I have to let him go.
I gently dust the back of my fingers though the hair on his lower stomach before I bend and slowly kiss him there.
I know this is casual sex… I know it. I asked for it. But why does this feel so special and intimate?
He stands eerily still in the muted light of my room, and I slowly take off his jeans and jocks. My breath catches as my eyes drop down between his legs. His cock is broad and long and I can see every vein down its engorged length.
Dear, God, he’s beautiful.
I bend and kiss him gently. I don’t feel arousal, I feel affection… and it terrifies me.
Stop it. This is casual.
I run my fingers through his dark pubic hair and he inhales loudly. I kiss him gently again and his hand tenderly brushes my hair back from my forehead as he watches me.
“What is it?” he whispers.
I shake my head unable to articulate my thoughts. “You are just…” I shake my head.
“Just what?”
“So perfect,” I whisper in awe.
As if sensing my fragility, he bends and kisses me. His large hands hold my face and he pulls me to my feet to slowly begin undressing me.
“Lie down, sweetheart.”
I lie down and he gently lies down next to me, pulling the blankets over us. He kisses me carefully as his hands roam up and down my body.
Stop it, I remind myself as my heart starts to freefall. At this moment in time I feel like I may literally die if he wasn’t here with me tonight.
“Alastar,” I breathe. I’m overwhelmed, why do I feel like this? My hands hold his face as he kisses me.
“I know,” he whispers as his forehead rests on mine.
We lay together, the two of us enjoying each other’s bodies, when he rises above me. My legs are touching the mattress, and his fingers gently slide in and out of my body as he prepares me for his size. My eyes close as he positions himself and slides home in one graceful thrust.
I cling to him. He clings to me. And as Alastar makes beautiful, tender love to me, I come to the frightening realization.
When this ends…
It’s going to hurt.
Chapter 10
The twisted ball in my gut is disturbing, heavy, and it’s riddled with guilt.
I have openly flirted and led Mark on for twelve months and now I’m finally here in the same country as him, I don’t want any part of it. Unfortunately, he just doesn’t do it for me. Although, I am wondering if I hadn’t met my Irish dreamboat, would things be different?
I pick up my wallet and my lip gloss, placing them in my bag before I sit on the bed and stare at the phone in my hand. Alastar and I have seen each other every night since we made our pact to be casual, and when he has got up to leave in the middle of the night, I have asked him not to go… and to my surprise, he has stayed with me.
I’m not sure how casual this is, but I am going out with Mark tonight for dinner to explain that I don’t want anything with him. His obvious flirting is cringe worthy and I need it to stop.
“Knock, knock.”
Oh no. They let him in and Mark has headed straight to my room. He was supposed to call me so I could come down when he got here. If he tries to kiss me, I’m going to have to tell him how I really feel before we even get to the restaurant. I tentatively open the door and he smiles warmly.
“Hello, Emerson.” He seems nervous.
My stomach drops with guilt. “Hello.” I smile and quickly pick up my coat and bag, hoping we can go immediately.
“I have bad news.”
“You do?” Oh, please tell me you don’t like me and save me the job of telling you.
“My parents are here.”
“Huh?” I frown.
“They are in the car downstairs.”
“What?” I frown. Is this a set up? I’m breaking up our impending relationship with you tonight, stupid. I don’t want your parents to see it.
“They called and are going home early tomorrow and asked if we could do dinner. I thought it wouldn’t hurt for them to come and meet you.”
“Huh.” I fake a smile. This is getting worse, now I’m meeting the parents and breaking up on the same night. “Great.” I push out. “Can’t wait.”
We get to the car and his father is sitting in the front, so Mark opens the back door fo
r me to climb in the back next to his mother. “Hello.” I smile awkwardly as I fall into the seat.
“Oh, hello, Emerson.” His mother smiles warmly. “My name is Eleanor”
I can’t help but smile. She is a large lady wearing a floral daggy dress with stockings. “Hello.”
I smile nervously. She gestures to the front seat. “This is my husband Albert, but please, call him Bert.”
“Hello, Emerson.” His father turns in his seat to shake my hand. Oh no, his parents are sweet country people.
Why am I such a frigging bitch?
His mother grabs my hand and holds it in hers. “We have heard all about you, dear, I just couldn’t go home without meeting you.”
I fake a smile.
“Mother.” Mark shakes his head in the rearview mirror at her. “Don’t scare her off.”
My eyes turn to look out of the window. Holy hell. This is the world’s biggest cock up. Why don’t you like Stephanie, you dip shit?
We arrive at the restaurant and go in. “Booking for White.”
“Yes.” The waiter scribbles on his booking pad. “Right this way, please.”
We follow him as I look around the space. The restaurant is huge with three split-levels. A bar sits on the top tier, and then there are seven steps down to the next level, and around the same drop down to the bottom floor. We are seated in front of the huge arch windows in the middle level. Mark pulls my seat out for me and I take my place. I need a damn drink and I need it quick.
Eleanor is the first to speak. “So, you are an Australian.”
“Yes.” I smile bashfully. “Where are you from?” I ask.
“Originally from here, but we now live in Scotland.”
“Oh.” I smile. “I’ve never been. It’s supposed to be beautiful.”
“It is. It really is.”
The waitress comes and takes the drink orders.
“This is your first time over here, isn’t it, Emerson?” Mark asks.
“Yes.”
“You should go to Ireland, too,” Bert announces. “Beautiful place, You should take her there, Mark.” I fake a smile and wish the ground would swallow me up. I do want to go to Ireland but I want someone else to take me to meet his parents.
Jeez, as if that’s ever going to happen. Stop dreaming, fool!
We order our meals and I find myself drinking way too fast, but honestly, this situation is a total nightmare. Mark’s parents are so nice and Mark is trying so hard. I’m not being fair at all.
Eleanor pulls out her phone and starts to go through it, showing me photos of her grandchildren from Mark’s sisters. I sit and smile as she proudly shows them off. She is a lovely woman.
“And this child here…” She points to the screen. “Just like my Mark when he was a boy. So athletic.”
My eyes flicker up to Mark and he gently takes my hand under the table, holding it in my lap as he looks at me.
Shit. What now? I don’t want to hold your hand. The waitress fills my glass again and I stare up at her, hoping she can read my mind. I need something strong, bitch. Not fucking wine. I start to sweat. I need to pay someone in that kitchen to give me salmonella poisoning right now—anything to get me the hell out of here. Hospital would be a much better option.
“And this child here…” His mother goes on, but I have stopped listening to the family resemblance that seems to be going on forever.
Our meals arrive and Mark, once again, fills my wine glass, welcoming my inebriation.
“Thank you.” I smile. He grabs my hand affectionately under the table and smiles adoringly at me. I frown at him and gently shake my head. I don’t want you to hold my hand, and if your parents weren’t here, I would pull away. Please read my mind.
The waiter arrives with a tray of drinks. “You must have the wrong table?” Mark frowns. “Our drinks are already here.”
The waiter shakes his head. “No, these are a gift from the gentleman at the bar.”
We all look up to the bar but don’t see anyone.
The waiter puts four shots onto the table and then four shots of a white liquid.
I frown.
“What is this?” Mark asks.
The waiter smiles and points to the clear liquid. “This is tequila and the man who gifted them to you said...” He frowns and pulls out a note and reads it out loud. “He said to tell you to enjoy your tequila but unfortunately the Emmaline cream is unavailable for purchase. He has taken the liberty to supply you with another.”
Mark frowns and the waiter shrugs in an I don’t know either kind of gesture.
I drop my head.
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
God.
Alastar. These are from Alastar. The tequila and the cream chaser… why the cream chaser? Emmaline cream isn’t available? I frown as I try and put the puzzle together. Oh fuck…
The cream is to symbolize going down on me.
Cream after tequila.
My face starts to burn up. What in the hell is he doing here?
Shit, shit, shit.
I pick up one of the shots and throw it back.
Hell, give me another.
Mark frowns at my alcoholic behavior and puts his arm around my shoulders. “Is your dinner okay, honey?”
Oh, sod off, and stop being so damn nice. I’m about to vomit in my own mouth here. I nod and drain my glass of wine in one gulp.
“Huh, thirsty, girl?” Eleanor smiles, amused. “I bet you can drink, hey, lass?”
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. How much shit can I listen to? This is abysmal; I need to get out of here. I stand. “I’m just going to the bathroom.”
“Do you want me to show you where it is?” Mark asks gently.
“Nope.” I snap. His face falls. Fuck, that came out harsh. “No, I’m okay, thank you for offering, though.” I stand and make my way down a corridor toward the bathrooms. At the end of the hall is the door to the kitchen, and then the men’s and women’s bathrooms. I walk into the women’s, bang the door shut and sit on the toilet. This is a nightmare. What in the hell is he doing here? I told him I couldn’t see him tonight.
I hear the door open, then close, before the lock on the main door is snapped shut.
“Get out here now…” The Irish voice growls.
Crap. It’s Alastar and he’s fuming mad.
“No. G-go away,” I stammer as I tug my skirt up.
“I will not go away. Get. Out. Here. Now.”
Oh my God. This looks bad. I was holding Mark’s hand under the table. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I slowly stand and open the door to find him glaring at me angrily.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I should ask you the same question.”
“Are you spying on me?”
“I shouldn’t have to.” He fumes.
“So you are.”
“I was across the street and I saw you come in here playing happy families. I couldn’t resist the temptation.”
I cross my arms over my chest.
He steps really close to my face. “And you are supposed to be only with me. What the fuck are you doing here with him?” He sneers.
Oh crap, this looks bad. “I’m breaking up with him, if you must know.”
“I thought you weren’t even seeing him?”
“I told you… I’m breaking up with him before it even begins,” I repeat.
“By holding his fucking hand?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “He’s holding my hand. I wasn’t holding it back.”
Alastar shakes his head angrily. “That’s it. I’m done.”
Fury rips through me. “You’re done?” I yell. “I’m the one who is done.”
“Looks that way.” He screams.
I shake my head in disgust. “You know what, forget it. This is stupid.”
His eyes hold mine. “I told you.”
I cut him off. “Yeah I know. You have a lot of stuff on right now. I get
it.” I snap. “Go home, Alastar. I’m here with Mark and his parents and we are fucking casual.”
“No.”
I screw up my face. “No. What do you mean no?”
“I’m not leaving here without you.”
My mouth drops open. “Oh, yes, you are.”
He shakes his head. “No, we’re going back to my place.”
I’m outraged. He can’t dangle his house like a carrot in front of me. “No.”
“I mean it.” He growls.
I narrow my eyes at him. “How dare you?”
“Oh, I fucking dare, alright.”
I shake my head in disbelief. What part of this is casual? “This isn’t working, Alastar. You are totally crazy.”
“Em, don’t fight with me,” he urges as he places his hand on my hipbone.
I put my hands on his upper arms and we move closer together. “Stop being such a prick, Alastar,” I whisper. “I’m here to break up with him.”
His eyes hold mine.
“I work with him and this has to be amicable. I’m trying to be an adult here. Let me do this properly.”
“Do you like him?” His eyes search mine.
“No. I like you and I’m with you. God knows why? You’re a total nut case.”
He smiles and kisses me gently.
I pull away from his kiss and put my hands through my own hair. “I have to get this over with tonight. I have to tell him that I’m not interested.”
“Just go out there and tell him now so we can leave,” he says as his composure returns.
I stare at him deadpan.
“I will cook dinner for us at my house.” He smirks.
I continue to stare at him.
“You can stay over for the weekend.” He smiles sweetly dangling that damn carrot once more.
He’s bringing out the big guns now. I smirk. He kisses me again and I feel my resistance start to waver.
“Come, let’s go home,” he whispers into my hair as he pulls me close.
Shit.
The latch jiggles on the door. “Emerson, are you okay?” Marks voice calls out.
I screw up my face. “Oh, please let me tell him. This is not fair. He doesn’t deserve this,” I whisper in a panic.
“Yes, Mark,” I call. “I’m just not feeling that well. I will be out in a moment.”
