AllFreeNovel
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One of my hands reaches for the back of his neck, letting the texture of his hair find its way to my grip again. “What does watch mean?” I ask, draping my hand back to his shirt again.
“Exactly what it sounds like it means,” he replies, watching me closely. “I look. You do … whatever you want to do.”
His top button comes undone, the pad of my fingers dropping onto his skin. The moment it does he moves suddenly, standing easily regardless of my weight and sliding me off him slowly. My heels hit the ground, his hand stabilising me until I get my balance. “You just don’t do it with me, Mrs Tanner,” he says, leaving me to walk to the bar.
He grabs a bottle of water and offers me one, as if the sitting on his lap thing didn’t happen. I take it from him and go back to my chair, part of me feeling like I’ve just been told off. I smirk at the feeling, oddly titillated by it considering the grieving wife I’m supposed to be. Rick never did that sort of thing with me. He was always up for my coy advances. This man, though, seems uncomfortable around my advances no matter how forward they are.
“I can’t work you out, Mr Rothburg. First I offered my lips to you and you didn’t respond. And then I was near naked on your bed, and yet nothing. And then I slip my clothes off at your request, exposing myself, and still nothing. And now I’m over on your lap, on your plane, and you push me off?”
“You’re not supposed to work me out. Think of me as a guide to distraction. Nothing more.”
“You don’t want to get inside me?”
“That’s not why we’re here, or why we’re going where we’re going.”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a secret.”
“Oh.” I laugh and sip at my water, unsure what that means. A secret? I haven’t dealt with secrets since I was in high school. “Really. And are we swapping notes in class on who the fit one is? Perhaps whispering about blowjobs behind the teachers back?”
“You won’t need to whisper a thing, Mrs Tanner.” The water goes up to his mouth, deep glugs being pulled into his throat. I watch it move, fascinated for some reason. Or maybe it’s just him. My real. My normality for now. “Were you really sucking men off in high school?” he asks, putting the bottle down.
“Yes. Three. My dead husband wasn’t one of them.”
“Obscene. Behind the cafeteria?”
“No. In the sports locker changing rooms. There was a corner. It was dark and shadowed. I’ve never been a lights on type of woman.”
“Shame.” He sits and looks at me again, getting himself comfortable. “Tell me about them. Describe it.”
For the first time I notice a change in his features other than the laughter when drunk or the scowls when agitated. I asses the change, looking into eyes that seem to be sparking to life. Sex. He’s aroused, and yet won’t move forward with me.
I chuckle and take a deep breath, dismissing thoughts of why. I don’t care really. I’m just existing now. Evolving maybe. Finding a new path. As he said, he’s just a distraction. A change of direction. Maybe friends is all we should be. I’ll find new people to fuck, helping myself get rid of Rick in the process.
“You want all the details?” I ask, looking out the window. Stars pass by, nothing but black sky behind them. Black. Maybe that’s what I am now, too. Dark and dirty, just like Deborah Collier.
“Yes. All the details. Explicitly. Veins, ridges. The way your tongue moved on them.”
My own thighs squeeze together at his words, an ache forming there that isn’t expected. I smile, amused with myself. We’re both aroused. My fingers tap on the glass.Tap tap. Tap, tap, tap.It makes me think of last night, of the wine I’ve smeared all over the floor and the slashed up curtains decorating the window at the apartment.
“And feel free to touch yourself, Mrs Tanner.”
My gaze slinks back to him, intrigued at the handsome features that are on show now he’s stimulated about something. He’s flirting, openly, even though he just pushed me out of his lap. I graze his features, watching the harsh lines become sharper and more focused on me. I don’t even know what colour his eyes are. They’re chestnut maybe. Almost orange in this low cabin light.
“Make it real for me,” he says, lowly.
“I can’t do that, Gray. You won’t let me.”
“Talk, Mrs Tanner.”
And so I do, not caring for the slutty overtures the memories might rekindle, as I stare out the window. I start describing the first guy I dated. Hanley Bentham. He was broad. Built like a quarterback. All the girls wanted him. I was a shy then. Quiet. Unwilling even. He kissed me slowly at first, teased me into it, and then put my hand in his pants and on his cock. It was the first one I’d felt in my grip. Long. Thick. Soft yet hard. I’d gasped like the fourteen year old schoolgirl I was, and then whimpered stupidly as he shoved my grasp up and down on him.
It was rough. I remember that. I remember thinking I was gripping too hard, but he made me do it by tightening his hand around mine. Fast and hard. It grew in my fingers. Got stiffer and thicker, until he was groaning into my mouth, whispering for me to get on my knees. I trembled as he pushed me down there, part unwillingly. I shivered and brushed my lips across the zipper on his pants, and then shook as he guided his cock to my mouth. It felt big as it pushed in, so thick. Musky, heady. I remember feeling the wetness slide out of my shorts, a tingling sensation burning in me, as he shoved it in and out, out and in.
Quicker.
Faster
