27. 27
27
Dexter
S he really does.
Tilly’s legs are short but perfect, the shirt reaching mid-thigh, but giving a glimpse of her ass as she walks.
Such a nice ass—round as a peach, soft. I love the feel of it in my hands.
And… I’m hard again.
I take the chair next to Tilly, pulling it closer. She glances at me with a hesitant giggle, like she can’t quite believe that I’m here.
Neither can I.
Dating is tough, especially since I passed the thirty-year-old mark, and keeping the available options to my classroom is a bad idea. Not that I did that on purpose; I never once set out to seduce a student, and I still resent the idea that I was the instigator.
I wasn’t. But I didn’t stop things until it was too late.
This is what I’ve always been looking for—comfortable intimacy with a woman. Adding in the fact that sex has been incredible so far is a definite plus, but this is more important—this closeness I feel with Tilly.
I like this. I like it a lot.
“You can talk about your ex-husband if you want,” I offer as I wait for Tilly to finish with the ketchup. “I want to find out everything about you, and he seems like he plays a pretty big part.”
I want to find out everything? Did I really say that? But it’s true with Tilly… I do want to know everything about her.
Tilly sighs as she passes the bottle to me. “I guess it defines me. My identity has always been that of a mother or a wife, but here with you, I don’t feel like that. I just feel like me. Tilly. A woman.”
“I like feeling Tilly, the woman.”
She smiles, eyes shining, and takes a bite. “Good,” she says through the mouthful. “Hot. The mayo adds a nice touch.”
“I know, right?” I hold her gaze as I chew. It sounds cheesy, staring at someone when you’re eating, but I don’t want to look away. I let my gaze roam her face, taking in the sprinkle of freckles on her nose, the fine lines creasing around her eyes, the purple shadows under them.
What makes her so tired-looking? Why isn’t she sleeping well?
I’ve never cared about these things before.
Even with Elena, she would tell me why she couldn’t sleep. She would tell me everything that was bothering her. I never had to wonder.
There were times she told me things, and I didn’t really care about them.
There’s so much I don’t know about Tilly and I want to. I do want to know it all.
“Do you do this a lot?” Tilly asks, dabbing the corner of her sandwich into a puddle of ketchup.
“Do what, exactly? Eat grilled cheese with ketchup? All the time.”
“This.” She waves between us. “Make strange women a snack in the middle of the night.”
“You must be old if you think eight-thirty is the middle of the night,” I tease. “And no. I don’t date much.”
Maybe I can understand Tilly’s reluctance to talk about her divorce because I have no interest in talking about my past. Maybe someday, but not tonight.
I jerk my chin at the book on the table. “What’s your favourite book?”
Tilly’s face brightens and I wonder if there’s a limit to what she wants to tell me, just like I have. Books seem like a safe topic. “You can’t ask me that.”
“I just did.”
She shakes her head. “It’s impossible to pick. I loved the Oz books when I was a girl, but they can’t be my favourite because I’ve read so many more. Same with Harry Potter. I like Gaiman. I love the Earthsea series. I like a lot of history, low fantasy, and I’m reading a lot of romantic fantasy these days. Outlander is amazing.”
“Do you really think the romantasy can be grouped in with high fantasy classics?” I’ve never had the opportunity to discuss fantasy books with a woman and it’s… it’s amazing. Having someone with such similar interests is new for me.
“Have you read Sarah J. Maas? It’s high fantasy with romance. Excellent world-building. And very dirty bits.”
I drop my voice. “And do you like the dirty bits?” Tilly catches her breath, slowly chewing. “Do they turn you on? Do you touch yourself like I know you can do?”
I have no idea how this discussion just became about sex. It’s like I can handle only so much PG conversation with Tilly and then I have to get back to the good stuff.
Every single thing about her turns me on. Watching those soft lips move as she chews, wondering how they would feel around my cock. Her hands, tiny but strong, with the crescents of her nails just barely over the tips of her fingers, but enough to make marks on my back.
Thinking about those nails biting into my back makes me so hard.
“I like them,” she finally confesses. “The dirty bits.”
“Do you think we’ll ever be able to have a conversation without me thinking about having sex with you in the middle of it?” She smiles, laughs. “Does that bother you?”
“It surprises me,” she says carefully.
“Why? You’re a beautiful woman and sexy as hell. Plus, you’re really good at sex. It’s a huge turn-on.”
“You think… you think I’m good at it?”
“I know you’re good. Did someone suggest differently?”
Tilly won’t meet my gaze. “I always thought that he left because I wasn’t,” she says in a pensive voice.
I don’t know what makes me angrier—the thought of her husband or the way it seems like he slowly eroded her self-esteem over the years. Or maybe he did it all at once. I can see the core in Tilly, hidden by uncertainty and hesitancy, but she’s a strong woman, and no one should have tried to persuade her otherwise.
“Your husband left because he’s an idiot,” I announce firmly. “I thought we established that. Finish up.” I gesture to the fourth of the sandwich left on her plate.
“Why?” But she obediently picks it up.
“Because I want my dessert.”
And when she’s finished the grilled cheese, I pick her up and set her on the table so I can have my dessert.