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Maybe this was a mistake!
Too late now, I tell myself. It's too late. Just do it.
“I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there!” I mutter, completely embarrassed. Now that my charade has been executed, I can see how completely pathetic it is. She probably sees right through me.
“Let me buy you new ones. Oh… those are really nice shoes.”
“No it's all right,” she finally says, and I watch her stained toes flexing in her sandals.
“Oh, you must let me,” I insist. “I can have something delivered to you today. Truly, I am so sorry.”
She looks up at me, her eyes steelier than I remember. But there's that pink flush in her cheeks, the stubborn set of her jaw. She still in there, my little girl.
“I suppose you better come upstairs then,” she mutters, turning on her heel and stalking off.
I don't know what to say, so I simply follow her. She gathers her skirt around her knees as she stomps up the narrow stairway way to a second floor flat and flings open the door. I follow her tentatively.
As soon as I clear the doorway, she flings herself at me. Her hands push up into my hair, dragging me on top of her, pulling me down onto the bare wooden floor. Her leg wraps around me, as hungry as her mouth.
Instinct takes over and I snap open my trousers, freeing my ready, throbbing cock just as she slides black lace panties over her ankles and flings them to the side. Her knees spread open in a silent invitation. I roll on top of her, mounting her with my hand under the small of her back to lift her hips.
She arches back, exposing her throat to me and I dive for it, burying my nose against her and inhaling deeply as I plunge into her warm sheath. Her ankles lock behind my hips, dragging me deeper inside her.
Like a thousand times before, we are locked together, grinding, thrusting, finding each other in the dark space between our souls. I know exactly what she needs from me and I give it to her, all of it. I lunge into her, impaling her until our bodies explode simultaneously.
We are both covered with sweat as I finally fall, withdrawing breathlessly and trying to pull her into my arms.
“Oh, Jordan, I missed you so much. That was—”
“That was sex, R,” she says simply. She sits up, smoothing her skirt back over her knees and letting her eyes wander over me dispassionately. “Good sex, I'll be the first to admit,” she continues coldly. “But just sex.”
“I think you know it's more than just sex,” I retort.
She shrugs one shoulder, looking away.
“I suppose you did that on purpose? Bumped into me on purpose? That was some kind of plan?”
I don't even want to lie it to her anymore, so I just tell the truth. “Yes. I had to see you.”
She takes a deep breath and lets it out over a long, long time.
I look around the room, trying to get my bearings. I don't recognize anything here, in fact, I'm kind of surprised these are the furnishings she chose. It's completely different than the pieces in our flat. More modern, more austere, with natural fibers and a more pragmatic aesthetic that I would've ascribed to her.
“Jordan, you must know I have feelings for you.”
Her head bobs up and down a few times. “I think that my feelings for you are purely physical, R,” she sighs. “If that's all right with you, I mean. Otherwise, we probably shouldn't see each other again.”
“You are giving me a choice?”
Her lips purse, and I can see how she's different. Not as soft. Not as eager. Not as innocent.
“Well,” she says finally, her tone full of impatience. She's dismissing me. She expects me to leave now. “I suppose you can let me know.”
I want to come up with some kind snappy retort, but everything in my repertoire sounds thin and insincere. Instead I just stand, redress myself and head for the door. I hear it close behind me and feel like I've lost. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have lost everything.
19
Jordan
