Flirting with Forever

by Cara Bastone

  “Yes.”

  “You’re gonna let me, Mary? You’re finally gonna let me.”

  Again, his words were a mixture of plea and command, and the combination had a rush of wetness making her ache between her legs. “Now,” she begged.

  John pressed his hips forward, and his hardness pushed into her in the same motion that he removed his fingers. The push and pull of it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before and Mary straight-up screamed as he buried himself to the hilt inside of her.

  She was clawed against him completely, her ankles crossed at his lower back, her hands in fists at his shoulder blades, her forehead jammed into the crook of his neck. “John.”

  He lifted his head to study her face, his expression softening at whatever he saw there. “I’ll never get enough of you saying my name like that.”

  He dropped his mouth to hers and started grinding his hips against hers. He went even deeper and had her gasping, her fingers scratching over his back. His pelvic bone found her clit, and she moaned.

  He swallowed down her sound as his tongue tangled with hers, pulling out halfway and pushing back in. Mary somehow went tight and loose at the same time. He picked up the pace, but he was never sharp; his strokes were almost round, dragging decadently against the right places. Her fingers slipped against his back, the hot air bearing down on them, both of them dizzily panting each other’s carbon dioxide. His stubble scraped her cheek as his face slotted in beside hers, the bed creaking beneath them, his breath in her ear. He still had one hand in her hair and the sharp sting of his tight fingers had her gasping in pleasure. He’d held her in place like this once before, when he’d whispered in her ear at the bar. She should have known then that he’d be this bossy in bed. God, she loved it.

  “Can you come like this?” he asked her. “With me on top?”

  “Sometimes. But usually it’s better if I’m on top.”

  She’d barely gotten the sentence out before he was gripping her at her waist and rolling them. She was disoriented for a moment, the room spinning around her while she got her balance against him. She planted her hands at his chest and blinked down at the sight.

  “Jeez, you’re hot,” she informed him. He wasn’t cut exactly, but he was strong and extremely well formed. His normal clothes made him look put-together and contained, but looking down at him now, bare chested, Mary was very aware that she had a completely uncivilized man inside of her. She glanced back, saw that his shorts and underwear were still bunched halfway down his legs, and it made her clamp down on him. He hadn’t even been able to wait to get completely naked. Why was that so freaking sexy?

  He jutted his hips up under her, his hands tracing her waist, molding her breasts, tangling in her hair, tugging her down for a kiss. “Show me how you like it,” he muttered against her mouth.

  She reached up and planted a hand against the wall over his head, bracing herself for the deep grind she started up almost immediately. She took him deep and then deeper. He swore and lifted his head only to bang it back down on the bed. She didn’t bother with putting on a show for him, or with teasing. Mary went straight for the gold. She found herself with her head tipped back toward the ceiling, one hand tangled with one of John’s, bracing her. She clawed at the wall as she grinded her hips back and forth on him, shamelessly using his body for her pleasure.

  He was speaking gibberish, his voice pure gravel as his free hand grabbed a handful of her ass. His hips jutted up into hers but not too invasively. He’d asked her to show him how she liked it and now he was obviously paying attention, absorbing the motion, learning. She was quickening, tightening, chasing orgasm, and it broke over her magnificently.

  He realized she was coming and gripped her hips with both hands, grinding her down on him as he cursed out the universe.

  Mary let herself be putty against him for just a few seconds as he kissed at her neck and pushed up into her from below. She tipped her head to one side and spoke into his ear. “Now show me how you like it, John.”

  His eyes searched hers for just a moment before he was gripping the condom and pulling out of her, rolling out from under her and pressing a hand down on her lower back to keep her belly-down on the bed.

  He canted her hips up and tugged her underwear to the side again, this time pressing into her easily, as ready as her body was to accept him again. It wasn’t the deepest penetration, but it was by far their most intimate position. He was stretched out over top of her, his hand tangled in her hair and his cheek pressing against hers. He gave her some of his weight but not all of it. Mary was pinned between him and the bed, forcefully adored, nothing to do but accept the pleasure he was pistoning into her. Her breasts and clit were erotically abraded by the fabric of the bedspread as he worked himself into her, his speed picking up, his chest plastered to her back.

  Mary could feel his heartbeat banging against her shoulder blade, and she squeezed her eyes shut, relishing how alive he was, how alive she was. His fingers came up and clamshelled over her hands, his leg hair scraping her calves. He sheltered her and took from her and gave to her all at once.

  “John,” she whispered his name again and again.

  She was naming the moment, and for her, its name was John. There was no other word for this feeling, this catapult into a new life. His name meant a million things in that moment. It was the man stiffening against her as he finally succumbed to his own pleasure, it was his heartbeat at her back, it was the electric friction every place they touched. It was everything she felt for him, all at once.

  * * *

  JOHN GASPED FOR life as he lay on his back, every muscle in his body turned to pudding. She panted into his ear and he loved it, her body half on, half off of his. The heat was oppressive in his apartment, and their skin slid against each other without either of them moving. If John could have swallowed the moment whole, he would have. Everything was perfect. John had never known a perfect this perfect.

  He shifted against her and his attention was drawn down to the basketball shorts and boxers that were still bunched around his knees.

  He’d put her facedown and fucked her half-dressed. Jeez.

  “I probably should have mentioned that I haven’t had sex in a long time and it was going to be, ah, vigorous. I’ll make it prettier next time,” he promised breathlessly, kicking his shorts and underwear off.

  “That was plenty pretty, John,” she said, just as breathlessly. He reached down and peeled off the condom, tying it off and throwing it in the trash can next to his bed. He jumped when he felt her touch between his legs.

  “Can I?” she asked, lifting her head to look in his eyes.

  He cleared his throat. “Sure.”

  He was still half-hard, and it might not go down with her fingers dancing over him like that. She nudged his shaft to one side and then the other, obviously in a playful, curious mood.

  Her fingers circled him; she pushed down and tugged back up. “You’re uncircumcised.”

  He cleared his throat again. “Yeah.”

  “Hot.”

  “Yeah?”

  He caught her eye and she blushed. “Totally. I can’t explain it. There’s just something more...animalistic about it. Ruder. I like it.” She was fully pink now, and John was delighted.

  “Mary?”

  “Hmm?”

  “That was the hottest sex of my life. Seriously. Jesus. I mean, wow.”

  She nuzzled into him, and she kept her hand between his legs, though she wasn’t playing anymore, just holding him, almost companionably. Not that one companion generally cuddled another companion’s dick, but still. It wasn’t explicitly sexual the way she held on to him. “Me too,” she whispered. “With a bullet.”

  He tried to keep his proud masculine preening contained on the inside. “And on a Thursday morning before work.”

  She stretched and rolled onto her back, ta
king her hand with her. “Got anything for breakfast?”

  “I can make you a smoothie. Or we can grab something from the coffee shop by the train.”

  “Mmm.” She clapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t talk about the outside world. The outside world doesn’t exist anymore. We fucked it away.”

  He laughed. “If you say so.” He played with her hair, amazed that he was allowed to. That he’d been inside her just minutes before. Yesterday after work seemed a million years ago. He’d never have imagined, upon striding into Fellow’s last night, that he would be here now, Mary wrapped around him. A thought occurred to him and this thing was still so new that his stomach flipped when he asked her, “You still want to get together tonight?”

  “Definitely,” she answered immediately, making him smile.

  “I’d say we should go to your house for the air-conditioning—” his hand absently scooped and tumbled her hair “—but I don’t usually like to leave Ruth alone at night, and I already did last night.”

  At his words, her entire body tightened against his, her face buried just above his armpit, her legs clamped around him, her fingers digging into his hips.

  “Are you okay?” He looked down at her in alarm, having no idea what the heck had just happened.

  She nodded against him, and when she looked up, her eyes were wide and her lip was between her teeth. “I’m okay,” she answered, sounding strained. “Ask me later. I can’t talk about it now.”

  But that look on her face was just about all the answer he needed. He was pretty sure, almost positive, that talking about not wanting to leave Ruth alone had just kicked her over the edge and into love with him. He searched her gaze and saw that she was overwhelmed, giddy, terrified. He leaned forward and gently kissed her, hoping to soothe her. He knew the feeling.

  “Ask me later too, okay?” he said softly, and this time it was her eyes searching his, trying to figure out if he was saying what she thought he was.

  She blushed and buried her face, and John gave her one last cuddle before he sat up on the edge of the bed. He cleared his throat. “I think we should take a freezing-cold shower together so that we don’t get heatstroke before we even go outside,” he suggested over his shoulder.

  She gasped and then her hands were gentle on his back. “Oh, my God. John. I scratched you to hell back here.” Her fingers gently traced the lines that her nails had apparently scored into him. He flexed his back, feeling around.

  “I like it,” he told her honestly. “It feels good. It’ll make me think of you all day.”

  She hooked her chin over his shoulder and straddled him from behind, her legs along his legs, her wetness smashed against him. “That’s how I feel about you between my legs. I’ll feel it all day.”

  He groaned and looked at the clock. “Shit. Work. You can’t say stuff like that to me when we’re gonna be late for work.”

  “We’ll take a quick shower,” she promised, her hand snaking around to his front and gripping him again, this time pumping him with much more intention than her playful touch from before.

  He stopped protesting and instead reveled in the feel of her delicate but firm grip. He looked down at his lap and grunted at the erotic sight of her gorgeous hand gripping him so tightly. She slid around to his lap, slipping off her underwear and swiping a condom from the floor on her way. She sheathed him with it as she straddled him. He sat on the edge of the bed and she sat on him, lifting up and taking him in in one long, wet slide.

  This time wasn’t any prettier than the last time, he figured, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. She rode him hard, artlessly, and it was hands down the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He leaned back on his palms and just watched, letting her get herself off on his body any way that she wanted. When she shuddered hard, calling his name and clamping down on him rhythmically, he banded an arm around her waist, securing her, and drove himself upward in several short, intense strokes before he was coming hard, sharply, woozily. Perfection.

  They sagged to the side, and he took a long moment to gain his breath back before he was lifting her, carrying her to his shower.

  “You love carrying me,” she muttered into his shoulder.

  “I do,” he agreed. “It makes me feel...”

  “Like a man?”

  “Not quite. It makes me feel human. I can’t explain it. Connected to you. Protective. Like I’m the one thing in between you and the rest of the world. I love it.”

  He set her down carefully in the shower and her smile nearly knocked his metaphorical socks off. He’d told her she was radiant and, boy howdy, he hadn’t been lying. The woman was incandescent.

  A second later, though, before he could twist on the shower, she stiffened, clapping a hand over his mouth even though he hadn’t been talking.

  “Shh!” she hissed. “Do you hear that?”

  John cocked an ear and heard the familiar, benign tones of his neighbors talking. “My neighbors?”

  “I forgot how thin your walls are.” She had both hands pressed to her flaming pink cheeks. “Oh, God. John.”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “Are you reflecting on the number of times you just screamed my name?”

  “I can’t believe this. I haven’t even met them yet!”

  “Mary, it’s New York. Hearing your neighbors have sex is a citywide experience. Practically a rite of passage. Besides, they’re not exactly celibate. I’m sure they don’t begrudge me returning the favor.”

  “But I was loud.”

  He laughed, charmed and so freaking in love with her. “I know. It was the best. I hope you’re like that every time. Lets me know I’m doing well.”

  “It lets everyone on your entire floor know you’re doing well.”

  He laughed again and turned on the shower, laughing harder when she yelped and twisted away from the cold spray. “There are worse things, Mary. There are much worse things.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  JOHN ROUNDED THE corner off the elevator and paused when he saw Richie and Crash talking in the hallway outside the office door. The two men cut off their conversation as John approached and a smug, shit-eating grin exploded over Richie’s face.

  “Crash,” Richie ordered in a bossy tone. “Do this with me.”

  Richie doo-wop stepped to one side, shucking his arms with his feet. And then to the other side. He looked over, saw that Crash was abstaining from the dance move and frowned. “Crash!”

  Sighing, Crash joined in the dance step, looking half chagrined at dancing in his place of work and half pleased that Richie was bullying him into goofiness. “Why are we dancing?”

  “We’re celebrating John. Who did something very naughty last night. I can see it all over his face.”

  John laughed and covered said face with one hand, attempting to step around the dancing men and into his office, but Richie got in the way.

  “Am I wrong?” Richie teased. “Just tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll stop dancing.”

  “Can I stop dancing anyhow?” Crash asked from behind them.

  “Never!” Richie demanded, leaning around John and looking Crash up and down. “I like when you dance.”

  John turned in time to see Crash go an immediate electric pink. He stopped dancing and scratched the back of his neck with one hand, looking completely unsure of what to say next and altogether very un-Crash-like.

  A thought struck John. The Crash Willis that John had known was not dancing in the halls. He wasn’t blushing or flirting at work. He was a smarmy, smug kiss-ass, hell-bent on needling John at every turn. But that version of this man had apparently exited the building. John wondered if maybe, just maybe, coming to John’s office to be an asshole to John for all those years had been the only reason Crash had been able to invent to come to John’s office in the first place. AKA Richie’s office.

  It didn’t make John li
ke Crash any better that years of snide comments and douchebaggery had been an attempt at getting closer to Richie, but at least John could sort of understand the logic of it. People did all sorts of ridiculous things when they wanted someone they weren’t sure they could ever have.

  “Can I carry on with my workday?” John asked Richie, who was still barring the open door to the office.

  Richie narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to give me any details?”

  “Not a one.”

  “Which means that things were really serious and you don’t want to disrespect her by gossiping.”

  John narrowed his eyes right back at Richie and slightly nodded his head in Crash’s general direction. “Maybe you can sympathize?”

  Richie’s eyes narrowed even further and John heard the unmistakable sounds of Crash shuffling from one side to the other.

  “Welp,” Richie said, a smile breaking out over his face. “I suppose the public’s not going to defend itself.”

  He stepped aside and swept his hands toward the door, waving John into work. John knew that as soon as Crash left, he was going to get an earful for that insinuation. He also knew that he was going to have to come up with the most tepid version of the facts surrounding his relationship with Mary. He didn’t want to actually give up any of the dirt, but Richie was known to steal all of John’s writing utensils and bogart the air-conditioning unit until John told him what he wanted to know.

  It was a good night was what John decided on. We hooked up. We’re seeing each other again tonight.

  There. That would quell Richie’s insatiable curiosity. And then John could get to work.

  Richie shooed Crash off to work, whispering something in his ear that made him go electric pink again, and then closed the door to their office, whipping around and narrowing his eyes at John.

  “Give it up. I get that you didn’t want to spill in front of Crash. But come on. It’s just you and me now. Gimme every dirty detail before I explode from curiosity.”