Twenty-Six
I don’t even wait until we’re all the way into the cabin. I just pin him to the door, and make out with his face so fiercely his eyes widen, and he lets out a little sound of shock. But the shock melts into something more pretty fast. He kind of sinks into a low groan, and sags against me. And when I go to ease up just a little, his mouth follows mine. His hands go to my waist.
Then he pulls me back in, firmly enough that my feet almost leave the floor.
Though it’s the noise he makes then that really gets me. A kind of nonverbal oh, YES , all surprised and delighted. Like he’s happy that we’re not going to stick to never doing this again. Like I was wrong about him not caring. It feels, in this moment, as if he wants to fuck me again as much I want to fuck him.
In fact, there’s almost something relieved about his reaction.
He didn’t agree as much as you thought he did , I think. He was just trying not to be a douchebag about it. And that feels right enough that I don’t hesitate. I start shoving down his shorts, those sexy little shorts – and he helps me, he helps me. More than that, in fact.
He shoves my skirt up.
Tugs my panties down.
Then – oh, then, oh god, then he lifts me right off my feet. I end up clinging to him, back against the door, that big body between my legs. Electrified, when I realize he’s not holding me in both arms. All he needs is one and the bulk of him, to pin me there. While he uses his free hand to fumble out a condom from fuck knows where.
Honestly, I don’t even know how he gets it on.
But he does, because he doesn’t tell me to wait when I take hold of him and just do it. I slide him through my slick slit, until he’s right there, perfect, perfect, perfect. And before I can think about it one second longer, I sink down on him. I swallow him, right down to the root.
Or as close to it as I can get without ending up with him in my guts.
Because god, he feels even bigger like this. He spreads me open; I can hardly clench around him. I try and all I get is the sense of nowhere to go, followed by a flash of pleasure so intense I choke out his name. ‘Oh, this is gonna take nothing at all,’ I tell him, and he seems so happy about this that it only sends me higher.
I drink in the devilish grin on his face, the light in his eyes, and that coil of sensation in my belly tightens. Then again, when he circles his hips. Slowly, slowly, in a way I could mistake for just gentleness.
But I’m pretty sure he knows it’s teasing me, too.
He keeps doing it, until I’m pulling at him and almost rubbing against his body. Frantic for more, and not shy about asking for it. Everything he did on the court and everything he’s doing now – they make it easy to. They make me tell him things I didn’t think I should, that I tried to shut off.
Like, ‘God, you make me feel so good.’
And, ‘Oh, I want to do this forever.’
And to the delight of my fragile, aching heart, he doesn’t turn me away. He doesn’t say there’s not a chance . He says, ‘Me too, oh, me too,’ and I swear I almost sob to hear it. I start thinking I was really wrong, that maybe I was just letting how things usually go rule my head and my heart.
We could really make a go of this, I think, as he finally gives in. He rocks into me, all fast and full of that delicious abandonment. And when he comes he says my name. ‘Hazel,’ he gasps, ‘Hazel.’ So tenderly, so full of passion that I would be a fool to believe he doesn’t care.
He must, I tell myself.
He must.
Though of course as soon as I think this – that’s when it goes wrong. It’s always when it goes wrong. I feel safe and secure in someone, to the point where I can turn my face up to theirs in the aftermath of sex, with all this ridiculous love in my eyes, and answer in a big gush when they say to me that they can’t believe I did that.
‘How could I not when you did something that sexy and amazing, god, you were amazing, oh, I could just be with a man like that forever,’ I let out. And then I get the kick in the teeth. Because as soon as I do, I know that I’ve said the wrong thing. I watch it slowly sink in, and as it does it kind of takes all the gleam out of his eyes. They go sort of dull and faded-seeming, and that smile does the same. It slips down, before disappearing entirely.
But not in a sad way, I don’t think.
More in a resigned-to-the-truth-of-something sort of way. Like for just that ten minutes of heated passion, he forgot that everything I said or suggested before was reasonable. That we’re not compatible, that we aren’t right for each other, that I wouldn’t be good for someone like him.
And he steps back.
He starts straightening his clothes. ‘Well, good thing I’m not that sexy all the time. We’d be in real trouble when it came to being the friends we should just be.’ Then he nods, like all that’s settled, and opens the door to make sure it is. Because once Tammy is inside, babbling that Doug took off, I can’t say anything else.
Though honestly, I’m not sure I would.
Sometimes, loving someone just isn’t enough.