Chapter 19 - Margot #2
I want Ethan’s mouth on me more than I currently want air in my lungs, but it’s always taken me a while to come like this—if I come at all from it, that is. It’s only fair to warn him.
He pauses. “Want me to stop?”
“No… no, don’t stop.” The words are breathy, pleading. “It just takes me a while to…” My voice stalls then soars an octave as Ethan’s tongue glides across my clit. “… come.”
“Does it now?”
“Mmhmm.”
When he chuckles against my clit, I feel the vibration in every single nerve of my body. “Well, good thing we have all night.”
Ethan makes a quick liar out of me. In four minutes flat, I’m writhing and moaning his name as I come on his tongue.
Afterwards, Ethan carefully slides his fingers out of me, planting another kiss on my thigh before sitting back on his heels.
He looks smug as hell, but I don’t mind.
I feel too good, too relaxed to care about much of anything at the moment.
“Liar,” he says with a smirk.
A breathless laugh is my only argument.
Ethan stands up, his jeans hanging low on his hips. Moonlight dances along the peaks and valleys of his muscular chest and stomach. He holds both hands out for me to grab.
“Where are we going?” I ask before committing any energy to moving.
“To the bedroom so I can fuck you properly. Unless you’re too worn out…”
I sit up, placing my hands in his. “Not at all.”
There is zero chance that I’m letting my one and only night with Ethan North consist of four minutes of oral sex. If we’re doing this, we’re doing all of it. Okay, maybe not all of it. I’m sure there are some items in Ethan’s sex arsenal that I should leave to the experts.
Ethan helps me up from the chair, holding me steady as I rise to my feet. Then he’s leading me back to the bedroom, settling me on the bed, and standing in front of me half naked. He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and extracting a condom.
He undresses, and I watch, captivated. My lips part on a silent gasp as his cock springs free. He’s bigger than I imagined (because yes, I’ve imagined this before, late at night when I let my mind wander to places I shouldn’t).
When Ethan looks up at me, I know he can read me as easily as I can read him.
I’m expecting a cocky smirk or a smartass comment, but neither appears.
Instead, his eyes settle on mine, warm and intent, hungry but gentle, like he’s savoring something familiar.
If he’s about to devour me, it’s because I’m comfort, not temptation.
The realization makes my chest tighten, and I smile without meaning to.
“What?” he asks, lips quirking into half a smile as well.
I shake my head, but my smile doesn’t fade. “Nothing.”
His head tilts, curious. His voice is low, teasing. “You look like you’re about to burst into laughter. That’s not exactly the reaction most guys are hoping for when they take off their pants.”
“It’s nervous laughter, if that helps.”
Ethan’s chin dips as his brow lifts. “You’re nervous?”
“A little,” I admit.
“Don’t be.”
If only it were that easy.
Having sex with Ethan presents a complex set of emotions.
There’s the comfort and familiarity of our friendship, as well as an unspoken appreciation that he’s willing to do this for me.
Not just give me the one-night stand that I wanted, but to really make it count.
To make me feel like I’m wanted and desirable, even by a man like him.
Which brings me to the other side of the coin: when it comes to sex, Ethan is intimidating in every conceivable way. He’s more experienced than I am, not to mention way out of my league.
But if Ethan knows this, he doesn’t let on. As he leans forward to kiss me, he does so with the sort of reckless abandon that makes me feel like he needs this every bit as much as I do (which can’t possibly be true).
We move backwards on the bed, never breaking our kiss, until my head meets the pile of pillows at the top and Ethan is hovering over me.
His broad arms are planted on each side of me, while my legs bracket his.
The rigid length of his cock rests against my aching, sensitive clit with a degree of accuracy that feels anything but accidental.
All it would take is one small movement, mine or his, to reposition him right at my entrance.
One thrust to feel him deep inside of me.
My entire body thrums with electric anticipation.
Ethan, however, is more patient. He kisses deepen and linger until he finally pulls away and looks down at me. “Ready?”
I nod.
Then it happens. He shifts ever so slightly, letting his stiffness slide across my center and hitch at my entrance.
A cautious, testing thrust nudges me open and a second, harsher thrust fills me entirely.
I gasp, adjusting to his size and wondering if I’m simply going to come again, right here and now, from a single thrust.
When my eyes flutter open and I look up at Ethan, I wonder if he might as well.
He holds himself there, planted deep inside me for a second, taking a long breath before he drags himself out and thrusts deep again.
We watch each other through each movement, exchanging little gasps and moans with our faces just inches apart.
Eventually, we silently agree that it’s starting to feel too intense, too intimate. We go back to kissing, our eyes closed a little tighter to give each other some privacy and keep ourselves in check.
But it feels too good. Before long, I’m breathless and panting, needing to break away from the kiss and fill my lungs with fresh, cool air.
“Do you want to be on top?” Ethan suggests.
I nod, and we reposition. He sits with his back against the pile of pillows while I climb on top of him. With one hand on his erection, I sink down slowly, savoring every delicious inch. Ethan watches, eyes flicking down to watch himself disappear inside of me.
Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I start to ride him in slow, steady strokes, taking him a bit deeper each time.
He groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to rest on the headboard.
His palms are on my thighs, fingers flexed as I find a steady but unhurried pace and an angle that hits my g-spot just right.
I’m getting close when Ethan’s eyes open.
He sits forward, and suddenly my peaked nipples are pressed against his hard chest. His hands are around my back, one at my waist and the other tangled in my hair, as my arms loop around his neck.
Our eyes are locked on each other again, and our breath is a stream between my lungs and his with our mouths parted but not quite touching.
It’s even more intimate than before, but neither of us seems to mind.
We move together, more desperate than before, as another orgasm rolls through me.
I feel Ethan twitch and swell inside of me.
Hear him groan and mutter something about how much he loves the way I look when I’m coming.
Feel his lips brush mine as the words disappear down my throat.
Then he’s kissing me again, deep and hard.
Coming down, we stay intertwined, arms around each other and foreheads tented together.
Eventually, we pull apart in slow, careful movements.
Ethan helps guide me off from him, hands on my waist until I’m settled on the bed.
Then he stands and walks to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and wash up.
I lay there, my muscles relaxed but my nerves still buzzing. The afterglow is nearly as intense as the sex itself, and I can’t help but bask in it.
Ethan gave me more than I could have asked for—a one-night stand that I’ll definitely remember forever. My only regret is knowing that it’s about to end.
When Ethan steps out of the bathroom, I expect him to start collecting his clothing and foreshadowing his exit. Instead, he greets me with a warm smile, walks over to the opposite side of the bed, and slides under the covers.
“Are you staying the night?” I ask.
“I was planning to, unless you’d prefer that I leave.”
I shake my head. “No, please…”
Unsure of how I was planning to finish that sentence (please cuddle?
please more sex?), I join him under the covers, keeping a sliver of space between us in case cuddling crosses the line.
But as soon as I settle in, Ethan objects.
Strong arms wrap around me, pulling me closer as his chin comes to rest near my temple.
“Good night, Margot,” he says into my hair.
“Good night, Ethan.”
***
In the morning, I’m awakened by the sound of jeans sliding on, followed by the clink of a metal belt buckle.
Groggily, I pull myself upright and rub my eyes until a very out of focus Ethan materializes across the room.
Patting the nightstand, I knock over a tube of lip balm before finding my glasses and sliding them onto my face.
“I overslept,” Ethan explains, panicked, unprompted.
I basically croak back at him, “For what?”
He trots out the bedroom door and returns a second later sliding yesterday’s t-shirt over his head. “I told Sophia I’d take her to the aquarium today.”
I may be half-asleep and wholly disoriented, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering if this is Ethan North’s standard one-night stand exit strategy. Does he always magically have somewhere to be before breakfast the next morning?
A glance at my phone reveals that it’s already past ten o’clock.
Okay, so before lunch then.
Also, when was the last time I slept until ten in the morning? Five years ago? No, probably more like a decade ago.
Ethan is hopping, pulling on a shoe, digging for keys in his pocket. He hops to my side of the bed and kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry to rush out of here, but we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.” Another croak.
Super. After a one-night stand with the modern equivalent of a prince, I’m the one who turned into a frog.
Luckily, Ethan is already halfway out the door, so he doesn’t even hear it. I blow out a deep breath and let my pillow pile catch my fall. Then I lay there, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, replaying a highlight reel of last night in my brain and wishing it wasn’t already over.
***
“Happy birthday!” Emma says when I answer her call. “Sorry I’m a day late.”
“Thank you.”
I already knew that I wouldn’t hear from her yesterday. She was off-grid somewhere in the wilds of New Zealand.
“So, how did you celebrate?” Emma asks, a hint of hesitation clouding her enthusiastic tone.
She knows I was planning to celebrate alone. Knowing Emma, she feels guilty about not traveling across the earth to be with me, even though I expressly commanded her not to.
“I went to Summit Springs after all,” I say.
Telling Emma about Ethan is complicated.
She’s always wanted us to date, even when I was with Jeremy.
Turns out she was right about our chemistry, but wrong about the dating part.
So, while I’m dying to tell her what happened between us last night, I’m less excited to burst her bubble about us all being a big, happy family one day.
“You did?!? That’s great!” she starts then pauses. “Wait, who did you go with? You didn’t go with Jeremy, did you? I hope you guys aren’t trying to stay friends or whatever.”
I hesitate for a beat. “Actually, I went with Ethan.”
I’m expecting a squeal of great delight and astounding presumption, but I’m met with silence instead. It stretches out long enough that I glance down at my phone, wondering if the call dropped.
The “oh” that follows sounds forced and tight. “With Ethan?”
“Yes… with Ethan. Is that a problem?”
“No, no… no, of course not. I’m glad he was available to spend the day with you.”
Three no’s? I’m glad he was able to spend the day with you? What’s happening here?
“Have you been replaced by a pod person?” I ask, only half joking.
“No, it’s just…”
Another long pause follows.
“Just what?”
“Just be careful with Ethan, okay?”
The words hit me like a cold bucket of water, dousing the excitement I felt a few seconds ago.
Maybe Emma really has been abducted by pod people because my best friend would know that I’m fully aware of Ethan North’s womanizing ways. It’s not exactly a secret. Everyone knows—me, her, the whole office, and apparently, every woman in Denver under the age of forty-five with a Sip profile.
I’m the one who had to remind Emma just a few months ago that, even if I wasn’t already in a committed long-term relationship with Jeremy, Ethan wasn’t exactly husband material.
Which brings me to one conclusion: there’s something she’s not telling me.
“Why?” I ask.
“Ethan’s just…” she hesitates, then sighs into the phone, “… he’s Ethan.”
“Wow, thank you so much for that insightful tidbit of knowledge,” I deadpan. “Seriously, Emma, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing, honestly.” She trips over the words. “I’m just exhausted from the hike.”
I remain unconvinced, but my voice softens, nonetheless. “Okay, well, get some rest.”
“I will,” she says, subdued. “Happy birthday, again. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Talk soon,” I repeat before hanging up.
The universe seems determined to tarnish the memory of my one-time one-night stand with early exits and cryptic phone calls, but I won’t let it. Whatever Emma is hinting at, she doesn’t need to worry. Ethan and I were a one-night thing.
The only problem is: I’m already wishing we were more.