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"Vaughan."
"I want to get you off." He traced delicate lines over my stomach, making my muscles clench with need. "Please."
"I don't know..."
"Just you. Nothing for me," he said, hooking his fingers in my underwear and slowly dragging them down my legs. "Let me go down on you, Lydia. I want to make amends."
"I'm not sure making someone perform oral sex should be used as a method of punishment. The ethics are a bit icky." Yeah, I was fighting him hard.
Gently, he pushed my legs open, kneeling between them. "Babe, licking your pretty pussy is a treat. Not getting a piece of you afterward is the punishment."
I laughed. "Treat. A piece of me. You make me sound like pie."
Without further ado, he licked straight up my center. From my butt to my clit and back again. An amazing rush, a whole new kind of intoxication, raced through me. My spine arched, jaw falling open. "Fuck."
"You're sweet enough to be pie," he mumbled, fixing his mouth to my labia and softly sucking. His nose nuzzled the area around my clit, hot breath stirring over all of that delicate flesh. Every ounce of blood in me rushed to the call of his mouth. My head spun, my body light, incandescent. He sucked and licked and savored me like a feast.
It was breathtaking.
The man knew his stuff, driving my excitement to scary heights. First softly grazing his teeth over my mound, then circling my clit with the tip of his tongue. Long licks between my lips, over and over again as his hands held me open. He followed no set pattern, I didn't know what he'd do next. A tender wet open-mouthed French kiss to my opening. Or giving my clit a tongue lashing. Maybe even teasing over my asshole with a light finger. Nothing was off limits in his pursuit of my pleasure.
Had I been mad at the man? I couldn't remember.
Surely it was all some silly mistake. No one with a mouth so talented and blessed could possibly have behaved like a thoughtless bastard.
A finger eased into me and bent a little, taking on the shape of a hook. It was the only way he could have reached the pertinent areas. Carefully the pad of his finger rubbed over the back of my clit, massaging me inside. My poor wet swollen pussy never stood a chance. The orgasm nearly knocked me out. Bright lights bursting inside of me, a pleasure so keen it was almost pain. I came hard and fast, gasping his name, clinging to the bedsheets as the world turned upside down. It took a fair while for things to come right again.
Someone was mouth-breathing seriously loud. How uncouth. Muscles kept twitching, inside me, in my thick thighs. Poor shell-shocked things. They'd probably never be the same. He'd broken me for all others. I was sure of it. And I didn't even have the energy to care.
He wiped his face off on the sheet and then pulled me into his arms, spooning me. Getting comfortable and settling in for the night. The scent of my come still lingered on him. His lips were still damp as he kissed my shoulder, the back of my neck. I don't know if I'd ever been with someone quite as raw. Not vulgar, just open, relaxed, and matter-of-fact about sex and into all of my body.
"Apology accepted," I said.
"Good."
"Be warned, though, I'm practicing to become a better feminist." I rolled onto my back, staring at his luminous eyes in the dark. "The whole Chris thing was a kick to the clit, but I'm working hard to set myself straight now. I own this body. My fate is mine."
"Okay," he said slowly, meshing his fingers with mine. "Where is this going?"
"I just want you to know, I will not be falling slave to your devil dick and demon tongue. No matter how good they are."
"Hmm." He rubbed his mouth against my shoulder. "Is that your way of saying you like how I fuck?"
"Yes. Basically."
"Well ... I'm glad," he said eventually. "And I'd like you to know that I consider myself a feminist too. You are more than my equal. But with all due respect, I think maybe you should consider getting some sleep now. This body that you own is probably going to feel bad in the morning. I'm a little worried that you're fated to have a hangover tomorrow."
Sadly, the man made sense. I snuggled into him, closing my eyes. "I'm going to miss you when you're gone."
A squeeze and another kiss to the back of my neck.
"The town was so pretty as Boyd was driving me home. We went by the scenic route through downtown."
"Downtown's in the opposite direction," he said with a smile in his voice.
"I know, but Boyd didn't seem to mind and I just felt like seeing it. All of the lights and the trees, the water. It's all so beautiful, you know?"
"I know," he said, sounding a little sad.
"I started wondering what it will be like when the trees change color, when it snows."
"Cold," he deadpanned.
"You don't say."
A snicker.
"At any rate, I got thinking and ... I'm not sure I want to leave after all." I tried to organize my thoughts in a straight line, but my brain was all orgasm-and alcohol-befuddled. It wasn't easy. "See, part of me wants to spend the rest of my days at least two states away from the Delaneys at any given time. But the other part of me is all 'you take your problems with you wherever you go.' The truth is, my issues aren't really about Chris and company, they're about me not being happy with my life and making bad choices. That's not going to change just because my address does."
Nothing.
"What do you think?"
He sighed. "Honestly, people have long memories. There's a lot to be said for starting over somewhere new."
"My parents had that attitude and it never quite worked for me. And here ... I'm finally starting to feel like I've found the place where I belong."
Vaughn didn't answer and a sneaky unwelcome little voice suggested he didn't want me here. However he felt about the place, it would always be his hometown. He had family and friends here, a history. For certain at some time in the future he'd be back around and if I was still here ... well, running into ex-lovers could be awkward as hell.
"You don't have to make any decisions right now," he said. "Rest."
Everything was quiet for a good long time before I heard him speak again. My mind was on the edge of sleep, so it might have even been a dream. A delusion.
"I'm going to miss you too," a voice whispered.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Friday morning, Vaughan sat out on the back patio steps, basking in the sun, playing his guitar. No shirt on, which was definitely my preferred attire for his upper body. Same went for the lower. A pad and pen were at his side, like last night. I remembered it all ... vaguely.
Did he really say he was going to miss me? Maybe he had and it didn't mean anything major. You could run out of ketchup and miss it without a crushing sense of deprivation overwhelming your life. It was, after all, just a condiment. I might well be the current pick of the condiments in his life. But he'd still eat a hamburger without me.
A terrible analogy, I know. But quite possibly true.
At any rate, I couldn't think about it right now. Literally couldn't. Any usage of the brain was bad. Inside my skull, things throbbed and hurt. I threw down two Advil with a bottle full of water and made a cup of coffee while trying not to think of anything. Only, trying not to think of anything was just as bad as focusing on something, and the malevolent or
ganism in my head took it as a declaration of war.
Pain, so much pain.
Maybe not drinking anything with an alcohol percentage for a while was the way to go. Also, Eric must die. Enablers were bad, evil people. The world must be purged of them.
I hid behind my sunglasses, sitting at one of the few remaining dining room chairs (several had fallen during the great fight) and listened to him playing through the open kitchen doors. Thank god for coffee. Coffee understood. Coffee was my friend.
Merrily, the drugs were at long last beginning to kick in when he noticed my presence.
"Morning." He shifted his position, all the better to see me. Unfortunately, I wasn't a good view.
"Hi."
"How you feeling?"
"Like Long Island Iced Teas are not my friend."
He inspected me over the top of his sunglasses. "Shit, you were drinking those? No wonder you were smashed."
"One Old Fashioned, one lychee martini, one Caipirinha, and one Long Island Iced Tea."
"So you had four cocktails," he said. "Last night you told me three."
"Did I? Huh."
He gave me a look that was most dubious.
"I've decided I have no further statement to make about last night."
"Have you now?" His tongue played behind his cheek. No idea what expression filled his eyes; he'd retreated back behind his shades. Probably for the best.
He gave up the sun and came inside, carrying his guitar in one hand and a pad and pen in the other. All of it got dumped on the kitchen table.
"Working on a new song?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, sitting down across the table from me. "It's called 'You Say Funny Shit When You're Drunk."
"I like it. Sounds like a winner."
"Yeah. It's going to be by the Devil Dick and Demon Tongue Band." He took off his sunglasses, placed them on the table. "What do you think?"
"That's the name of the new band? Sweet."
"Classy, right?"
"Totally." I suppressed my smile, just barely. Funny bastard. I swirled the dregs of my coffee around in the cup. "Do you have any plans for today?"
"No, nothing today." He stared out the open kitchen doors at the world beyond. The large broken panel of glass had been replaced sometime yesterday. "I, ah, I accepted an offer on the house."
My face froze. "You did?"
A nod.
"Wow. That was fast. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, it's a great property."
High up on the wall, the kitchen clock was ticking. I don't know if I'd really noticed it before, but now ... damn, it was loud.
