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He stepped around the corner of the granite countertop and took my hand. I didn’t jerk it away, which was probably a mistake.
“If it means another night with you? Yes.”
My knees were going weak. All of me was going weak. Had I been planning this when I drove over here? Maybe. Probably. But I wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Your face is all messed up,” I said, pointing out the bruise on his chin. “I can barely even look at you.”
“Okay,” he pulled me closer, until I felt the warmth of his chest. I could smell the lime on his breath. “Close your eyes.”
“I don’t think I like you anymore either. I don’t sleep with guys I don’t like.” I said this even as he wrapped his arms around me and I planted my face against his chest. This was so stupid. But he smelled really good, and I could feel his erection against my stomach.
Hey buddy. I missed you, too.
I wanted all my clothes gone. All of his clothes gone. I wanted his rough hands on my breasts. His mouth against mine. I wanted to curl my nails against the muscles of his chest until he begged for mercy.
I wanted him inside of me.
I wanted to be whole.
One last time, I thought. What would it matter? Would it break my heart any more than it was already broken?
Nope. Not possible.
“Then how about this?” he said, his hands rubbing big circles from my neck to the top of my ass. “How about we pretend you’re not a former figure skater and I’m not a hockey player who told you to leave? I’m just a guy who works at a bar and you’re in town looking for a vacation fling.”
I didn’t lift my head.
“Hmmm. What do those people do?”
He paused like he wasn’t sure either. We’d never had a chance to be so normal. “Well, I think they… chill and watch Netflix. They order up some pizza and drink G&Ts. And…they talk all night.”
“Talk? All night?” I said, looking up at him to see if he was really serious.
“Yeah. The girl on vacation can tell the bartender about her parents, and the bartender can tell vacation girl about his sister. She can tell him about her first kiss and her favorite teacher growing up and the worst hangover she ever had.”
“He can tell her about growing up in Calico Cove and how his father maybe passed some of his own dreams onto his son, and it’s hard, but it’s also part of what made him what he is today.”
“That sounds boring,” he joked, his hand sliding down to squeeze my ass. “You know what else bartender boy does?”
“What?”
“He goes down on vacation girl until she can’t form complete sentences. He licks and tongue fucks her sweet pussy until she screams.”
“I like this bartender boy, do you have his number?”
He grabbed me around my waist, not lifting me up over his shoulder because he knew that was a trigger for me, but lifting me up enough that he could carry me to his king-size bed. He laid me down and I pulled him over me.
“This is another big mistake, isn’t it?” I asked him.
“A’yup.”
* * *
Dillon
I don’t ever remembersex like this. In high school it was all about the thrill of doing it for the first time. Fucking and blow jobs and what worked and what didn’t to get me off. To get the girl off.
When I was climbing the leagues, sex felt like an extension of hockey. A sport. A competition. Trying to keep up with every puck bunny who wanted to take a ride on my dick.
