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“Thanks for letting me come over,” I said, chewing on my lip, and poked at the plate he placed in front of me. I sipped the coffee eagerly, but I didn’t have an appetite.
“No problem,” he said. “I figured it’d be safer here.”
I took a bite of eggs then decided not to force anything. He tucked in with gusto, and by the time he finished half his food, I was already up and drifting away toward the glass sliding doors. I looked out over the city, and could see Rittenhouse Square not far away, and marveled at the view. This place must’ve cost him a fortune.
“What am I going to do about my apartment?” I asked, turning back to him.
He shook his head as he put his plate aside and drank coffee. “I’ll clean it up,” he said. “Hire some people to put all the cabinets back together and make sure the glass gets taken care of. Then we’ll maybe think about adding an alarm system.”
I let out a little laugh and stared down at the coffee table. The Absolute Sound magazine was left haphazardly open to a review of some ornate pair of speakers. I didn’t know he was really into music, but that made sense—there was an impressive stereo system next to the TV.
“I’m not sure an alarm’s going to do much,” I said.
He walked around the counter and came toward me. “You can always stay here.”
I stared at him and felt my chest heave and my stomach clench with emotions. The night before came back to me—the flirting in the hallway, our conversation about our parents, then the shock, and lying in his guest bedroom, smelling him on the sheets, on the pillow. He invaded my senses and I liked it with an intense and strange obsession that I thought was long gone, but bloomed again ever since he came back into my life. I resented him for it, for making me feel this way again, and yet it threatened to swallow me whole every time he came around.
“I don’t know if that’s a great idea, either,” I said, and looked anywhere but at him.
He kept coming closer. I backed into the glass door and stayed there. It was cool against my legs and hands, and he continued prowling closer, shirtless and gorgeous, his muscles glistening and flexed, and I didn’t realize he had so many abs, or that his chest muscles were so large and hard, and I had to keep myself in check, or else I’d reach out and touch his smooth, tan skin.
“I’ll be a gentleman,” he said. “I promise. Unless you ask me not to be.”
“Bret,” I said. “We can’t do this. We talked about it already.”
“We did,” he said, stopped right in front of me, and reached out. I turned my chin, but he grabbed it, and made me look at him. I stared, mouth open, and his fingers caressed my cheek, then down along my lips—and parted them, one finger into my mouth. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I let him push it into my tongue, and my lips closed around it as my tongue rolled around, and he slide it back out with a shiver and a growl.
“That’s dangerous,” I whispered, and took another finger between my lips, sucking it hard, before pulling back. “You don’t know what you’re starting.”
“I think I do,” he said, and his other hand moved up my thigh to my lower back. “It’s been a very long time since I felt like this, Jude. Ever since we were kids, and even that feels like it pales.”
“You just want what you can’t have,” I said, and took his finger into my mouth again as his other hand moved down between my legs. He pushed them open and slide up along my slit, and I moaned as pleasure blossomed, and I bit his finger, gently but firm. He gasped, and I pulled back as his other hand moved down the front of my yoga pants, and he kissed me.
I kissed him back and his fingers sent pleasure swirling through my body. He spread my lips and rolled a callused fingertip along my clit as his tongue moved against mine. His other hand grabbed my hair and pinned me against the glass door, and I was done, I was lost, I was cut adrift and drowning in the pleasure of him, in all the years that had separated us, in my hate and my anger, and my lust, god, yes, my lust. I put my hands on his chest and pushed him back, and for one instant, as he moved away, there was a moment of hurt—
Until I pushed him again into the couch and straddled him, back arched. I could feel his long, thick cock between my legs and I moaned as I kissed him, my hands moving down his bare shoulders, to his muscular, toned arms, then onto his chest, and his abs, then down the front of his gym shorts, and down along his incredible, thick cock.
