“WHOA… calm down… Summer, it’s just me!” Nick said, flicking the night-stand light on.
I let out a deep sigh of relief. “Oh thank GOD…” I had no idea who else I had expected would be sliding into bed with me, but having been asleep, anyone sneaking up on me was startling. “Wait… what the hell are you doing here?” I asked, jumping back on the bed and pouncing on him, straddling his hips.
“Can’t a guy sleep in his own bed?” he laughed, wrapping his arms around me.
I put my hands above his shoulders, my hair tumbling around us as I looked down at him. Damn, this brought back memories. “As long as he doesn’t expect me to get out of it…”
“I’m really hoping you won’t.” he replied, biting his lip.
I recognized that look. He wanted something, but what, I didn’t know exactly. My heart was already beating faster, from the things running through my head. All I’d have to do was scoot back… just a little… and ease myself down…
“I really want to kiss you…”
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! He has to know I can’t say no to this. I just kept staring at him, waiting for something. I wouldn’t make the first move, but I wasn’t going to tell him ‘no’ either.
“Is a kiss cheating?” he asked, in a whisper.
I bowed down just a little closer to him, “Do you want it to be?”
What happened next all depended on his answer. If he said ‘yes’, I’d get off him, go sleep in the other room, done. If he said no… it was on.
He didn’t say anything, but shook his head ‘no’, his hand slipping around the back of my neck to draw me closer to him.
The first touch of my lips to his was like heaven… electricity jolting through my body, my mouth desperate for his. The kisses started out frantic, urgent… rough. His hands were in my hair, tugging and guiding me, keeping me exactly where he wanted me.
I had to pull away from him, for only a second, gasping for air. I briefly contemplated if it was possible to get off just from kissing… I already felt like I was dangling on an edge. He looked up at me, breathing just as hard as I was and rolled on top of me. He hovered over me, momentarily, then was settling his weight on me, pressing his body into mine and kissing me again… but then it was different… just as intense, but deeper, more sensual. The kind of kisses that lovers share… our lustful, teenager-ish warm-up had only been the beginning.
I don’t know how long he kissed me or at what point our hands started roaming… but I knew beyond a doubt that I’d never wanted him more than I wanted him right then. I figured the feeling was mutual, I could feel him, hard, pressed against the inside of my thigh. When his lips left mine and started trailing down over my jaw and to my neck, I couldn’t help the moan that escaped when he lingered on my favorite spot… and I knew we were both in trouble. He knew exactly what he was doing and I wasn’t about to even begin to protest. He could have me… all of me… any way he wanted me.
When his hands started slipping up under the jersey of his that I had stolen to wear as pajamas, I was gone. His thumb brushed over my nipple and my back was arching, my whole body was on fire, I was prepared to beg for him to keep touching me. He was tugging at the shirt like he was going to pull it up over my head and I wondered how far he would actually take this. I felt his ragged breaths, warm over my breasts, and the goosebumps that spread over my body because of it.
I held my breath as I watched his head dip down, ready to lick or bite at me, and suddenly he was pulling the shirt back down and moving away from me.
“I have to go see Macy,” he told me, an odd tone to his voice.
I tried my best to sound calm, like I was fine with this, that it was no big deal he was going to kiss me like that and then just leave me hanging. “It’s the middle of the night, Nick… she has to work. Just wait a few hours and send flowers to her office, call her at lunch and surprise her.”
He was out of bed, pacing. “I’m sorry, Summer… I shouldn’t have… I just… god, I wanted… still want… you so bad… I can’t be that close to you right now…”
I got up and went to him, gently propelling him back toward the bed. “You sleep here… I’ll be in the other room. I’m glad you’re home for a little while, I love you, good night.”
I left as quickly as possible, diving into the spare bed, and pulling the cool sheets over me. My whole body was still tingling, aching for him. I whimpered to myself… god, that had been so fucking good… and so bad. It reminded me, full-force, of everything I wanted, and exactly what I couldn’t have.
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I couldn’t get back to sleep. At all. I was still wide-awake as the sun starting streaming through the window, spilling across the bed. I was sure that was – easily – the most miserable night that I’d spent. I hated that he was so close and I’d almost had him… I did have him, but not the way I wanted him… I couldn’t have him.
I lay in the bed until I couldn’t take it anymore… I got up and went to brush my teeth, listening for any sign of other life in the house. I peeked in his bedroom and then out in the garage – he was gone. No note, no good-bye, he was just gone.
I puttered around the kitchen, putting together a lame-ass breakfast even by my standards and trying to keep my mind occupied. But it wasn’t working. I hopped up on the counter, nibbling on my Cheetos and couldn’t help but wonder. Was he mad? At me? At himself? Did he wish I’d stayed with him, even though he’d asked me to leave?
I did… I wished with every cell in my body that I’d ignored him and had stayed. I may have promised Macy I’d behave, but really… what loyalty did I have to her? I probably should have had some, but I was much more concerned with my own desires… hell, they’d become needs at this point… than I was about her. If that made me an evil bitch, so be it. But god, did I wish I’d stayed. Even after he’d told me that he couldn’t be close to me, I knew I could have changed his mind, could have silenced his doubts with one more kiss, with a touch that I knew he couldn’t resist. I could have. What the hell had made me get up and leave?
I knew what it was… it had been him… the look of doubt and confusion on his face. He wanted it, and he felt guilty for wanting it, and I couldn’t stand to see him torn like that. So I left.
Fuck, I’m stupid.
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I pulled open the shower door, finally willing myself to get an official start to the day after moping around for most of the morning. He’d left his boardshorts in a wet heap in the corner of the shower. I guess he’d gotten up to either go swimming or surfing this morning. Wish I could have seen that. I turned the water on, picked up his shorts and rung them out, then tossed them in the sink before I stepped under the spray. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him in those shorts. I’d always thought boardshorts on guys were practically… magical. There was just something so sexy about the way they hung just so on their hips and the way they clung to all the right places when they were wet. They were even sexier on Nick with that ghetto booty of his. I could remember sitting on the boat, watching him steer, just admiring his ass while I worked on my tan. I’d never be able to resist for long… I’d have to get up, sneak up behind him and slip my hands around his waist, kiss across his shoulders and feel him shudder.
As I worked the shampoo through my hair, I began to wonder if I was making things worse for myself. By staying with him, around him, even being in a place that was his… it’s not like I could escape his still-strong hold on me and my heart. I knew I didn’t want to… there was no doubt about that, but was I just being dumb? I probably should just get over it, over him and move on, but I HAD tried that, it hadn’t particularly worked out all that well for me.
I rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, not even bothering to grab a towel, then air-dried as I walked around the house naked. I felt especially restless – I guess last night had really done me in… more than I would have expected.
I lay around for a while and finally made myself get dressed. I still had no idea what I was going to do with myself. I took a walk, reorganized the kitchen pantry (again), and sadly, watched a movie on Lifetime.
I was half-asleep on the couch, lulled into semi-consciousness by Shrek when I heard him come in. I listened as he set some things down in the kitchen and then came into find me. He didn’t say anything to me, but knelt at the end of the couch near my feet and pushed my knees apart and lay down on me. He lay his head on my chest and I wrapped my legs around his hips, slipping my fingers through his hair. We used to do this a lot… it was relaxing, a physical way of connecting without being intimate. It usually led to that, of course, but sometimes not. Every now and then he’d fall asleep, and I’d just play with his hair, glad to be sharing a quiet moment with him and wonder what he was dreaming about.
But now, I could tell something was wrong. I hadn’t expected him to want to be close to me at all, but he obviously needed to be for some reason, and I knew he’d tell me when he was ready. I slid my hands down over his neck, lightly running my nails back and forth across his shoulders. I gently pulled the back of his t-shirt up, and he shifted for just a second, reaching to grab the back of the collar of his shirt and toss it aside, then settled back down between my legs. I began tracing his tattoos with my fingertips, starting with the music note. I couldn’t help but smile as I looked at him… I’d always loved his back, particularly his shoulders and especially the freckles that fell across them. He never understood what I thought was so fantastic about them, and I probably couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was either, but I loved them.
He glanced up at me, for just a second, then put his head back down, being fairly careful to avoid coming into contact with my boobs. Guess those were still off limits.
Just as “Hallelujah” began playing on the movie, he started talking. “I went to see Macy…”
“I know.”
“Something’s wrong with her… but I don’t know what. I can’t figure it out. It was like, she knew something happened. But it can’t be that, can it? She couldn’t know that…”
I sort of wanted to argue with him… I think people, girls especially, kind of have a sixth sense that alerts them when something is “off”. I’d heard that little alarm multiple times… and chose to ignore it every damn time. “What made you think that?”
“I got to her office building and called her… I told her I was in the parking lot, thinking she’d be all excited to see me and come running out. But she didn’t even sound that happy, it was like, “well, let me try to sneak out of here.” Then she gets outside and into the car with me and gave me a kiss, but it wasn’t, like… normal. I mean it was good and all, but not in the way it usually it, it just didn’t feel the same. She asked what I was doing home and then she didn’t even seem like she was paying attention when I was talking. I asked her what was going on, if she was okay and then she…”
He stopped sort of abruptly and I couldn’t tell if he’d just realized something or was trying to stop himself from telling me something he didn’t want me to know. I prompted him, though, just to see. “She what?”
“She wanted to give me head.”
I laughed, “What’s the problem with that??”
I’d never met a guy who didn’t like getting head, but Nick was particularly appreciative of oral skillfulness – god knows he’d had enough girls to be a connoisseur… if he’d suddenly stopped liking to have a girl go down on him, my world was officially askew.
“She never really… does it. It’s like she was trying to distract me,” he said, more mumbling than actually talking.
“She… what?!?” This was a phenomenal concept to me. “She doesn’t give you head?”
“No, she doesn’t like doing it.”
I had no idea what to do with this information. Call me shallow, but I couldn’t believe he’d stay with someone who didn’t enjoy giving blow jobs. I also sort of couldn’t believe there were girls who didn’t like doing it to begin with, but I had definitely learned from guys that my enthusiasm for the task was more an exception than a rule.
“You’ve been with someone for almost a year… and you haven’t gotten a single blow job?” I was completely incredulous at the very idea.
He rolled over a little, using my thigh as a head rest, “She’s done it like, twice… once on my birthday and then some big date night we had.. but I mean, I’m not gonna make her do it. I love her… I can live without it… most days.”
I scoffed, “Most days. Dude, I know you… you’re dying.”
He sighed, “If I didn’t think I’d feel completely guilty and know that she’d never forgive me, I’d have totally begged you by now.”
“You wouldn’t have had to beg. I know I’ve got a gift, and I feel it’s a waste not to willingly share it with the world.” I said, chuckling. Upon sudden reflection, though, I realized I hadn’t done Zack any favors very often. That should have been yet another clue to me right there.
“You’re mean.”
“I’m mean? What? I’m just saying… I’ve got my talents, you have yours… some of ours just… happened to coincide nicely.”
“You’re still a fucking tease.” He said, turning his head to scowl at me.
“I’ve never been a tease… ‘cause I always did what I said I would… sometimes you just had to wait a little for it.” I said, in defense.
“Now it’s teasing.”
I considered, “yeah, maybe it is now… if you know how good it is and can’t have it.”
“You’re not helping. I’m worried.” He rearranged himself again, scooting down some, settling his head on my stomach. This… was distinctly more sexual to me.. and borderline torturous. He’d do that sometimes, if we were “trying” to be good for a while… if someone else was there or something was going on that we couldn’t rip each other’s clothes off right then. He’d lay right there… close enough to “accidentally” brush against me, his hand between my legs, as he’d arrange himself or gesture while talking to someone. He knew I’d be wet… he’d lick his lips… and then he’d look at me in a way that was just so… hungry, so raw, it was just ravenous… like he was going to devour me. I couldn’t help the shudder that followed, but he didn’t seem too curious about it… he probably knew what I was thinking.
I tried to brush it off… I really did, but I could feel what he was doing to me. I closed my eyes, willed myself to focus and ignore his proximity to a place I’d have really liked his tongue, and said, “Okay, you’re worried. Is there something you’d like me to do?”
He sighed, “I have no idea what you could do. I’m supposed to see her later tonight, maybe she’ll talk to me then.”
I started playing with his hair again, “Or maybe you’re just imagining things. You probably just caught her off-guard, surprising her at work. If you’re normally super careful about things with her, not to be in public or whatever, it was probably just a shock… or maybe she was in the middle of something at work and didn’t want to be gone a noticeably long time. It could have been a lot of things, Nick.”
He was quiet for a second and then said, “Yeah, you’re probably right. You usually are.”
I hoped I was. I didn’t think things really needed to be anymore complicated than they already were. I’d call Macy when he was gone, maybe she’d talk to me. Maybe… if she’d recovered from our last conversation.