Broken (7 page)

“Are you kidding? They don’t make those in my size.” He grinned and raised the bed a bit higher with the remote control. “Stand up. Put it on.”

I stood. The baby-doll nightie had thin straps and a pair of matching thong panties. It wasn’t something I’d have chosen for myself, but I could see the appeal.

“Where did you get this?” A vision of Adam sending Dennis on the errand heated my cheeks.

“I ordered it online. Dennis wrapped it for me, but don’t worry, he didn’t see what was in the box. I was worried it might not be what I ordered but I knew you wouldn’t want him to check it out.”

“Is it what you ordered?” I held it up, turning it from side to side.

“Oh, hell yes.”

We hadn’t made love in a long time. Nearly a year, as a matter of fact, the last time prompted by Valentine’s Day. It had ended badly, with both of us in tears. I wondered, now, what had prompted this effort and knew it was the man in the store I’d told Adam about.

“Put it on.” Adam’s voice was hoarse with a familiar longing, and I couldn’t deny him.

I’d been naked in front of him thousands of times. In the dark, in the light. He’d seen me change a tampon, use the toilet. Held my hair when I puked. And still, I hesitated to strip out of my clothes in front of him now.

“I’ll go into the bathroom.” I offered it hesitantly, uncertain, and to my relief he nodded.

“Yes. Do that.”

In the bathroom I avoided my reflection as I took off my clothes and laid them neatly on the chair. I held up the lingerie to my bare skin and shivered with sudden, fierce longing. When had I last worn something like this? Garments made to arouse? I favored the practicality of cotton panties and bras, serviceable underwear meant to cover, not entice.

I felt like a virgin again. I slipped the panties, no more than a triangle of lace held together by two straps, up my legs. The thong slipped between my buttocks, an odd but sensual sensation I wasn’t sure I liked. The lace covered my pubic hair while the straps crossed my hips, where the bones most definitely didn’t jut forth as they had on our wedding night.

“Sadie?”

“I’ll be right there!”

I pulled the gown over my head and adjusted the fit. It barely covered my breasts and split in the front to swing open as I moved. The hem hit me mid-thigh but provided no real coverage. The entire outfit had been designed to reveal and enhance, not conceal.

When I looked at last into the mirror, I saw my cheeks had flushed and my eyes sparkled. My nipples had gone tight beneath the nylon, and already the lace between my legs was rub-rubbing in a way that made me shiver.

It’s a rare woman who can view herself in an outfit like that and not find flaws, but I wasn’t unhappy with what I saw. I was no longer a bride, true, but time hadn’t been cruel, either. No children had stretched my stomach and breasts, and diet and exercise had kept me in shape. There was no reason for me not to show my husband my body, displayed in the finery of his gift. Yet it took me a full minute to gather the courage to turn the door handle and step out.

Candlelight is forgiving, but if I’d had any doubts about how Adam would see me they vanished the moment I stepped through the door. His eyes gleamed, and his low whistle of appreciation sent a warm flutter through me. I moved closer to the bed, foolishly shy, and twirled slowly so the material flared out from my hips and thighs.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Adam said.

My heart skipped at his words, so affecting. It had been a long time since he’d written poems praising the arch of my eyebrows and fullness of my lips. “You like it?”

“What do you think?”

In the past, his erection would have let me know how much. Now I had to be satisfied with the curve of his mouth and tone of his voice. I was ashamed to find them poor substitutes, and forced myself not to think about it.

“Come here.”

I moved closer to the bed. Déjà vu hit with me with force and I stumbled and had to steady myself. For one moment I’d imagined him reaching for me with such clarity I’d felt his hands on me. Breasts, belly, cunt. I’d felt his kiss on my bare skin, his tongue on my clit.

“Kiss me.” Adam’s voice was rough. His eyes roamed over my body, touching me in all the places he’d once stroked and licked and nibbled. He looked at the sheer triangle between my thighs, and his eyes gleamed. He licked his mouth.

Always, in our life before, Adam knew what he wanted and how to get it, was never afraid to ask for things I’d have been unable to voice aloud. Adam had liked dirty talk, bedroom games, adventure, all things in which I’d been content to follow but never lead.

I kissed him. Our breath mingled. He stroked my tongue with his, making me gasp. I wanted his hands on me but had to be content with putting mine on him. His shoulder blades jutted forth and I moved my hands to cup his biceps, so still.

Our faces so close, I could almost forget the rest of him had changed. I could pretend it was like the past, when he could lift me with one arm to toss me, laughing, onto our bed where he’d cover me with his body and pull orgasms out of me like pearls on a string, one after the other.

“I want you so much,” Adam said.

“You have me.”

Something flickered in his dark blue eyes, and I wondered if he was thinking about the man who’d propositioned me in the store. “Touch yourself for me?”

I had to swallow hard at that request. Masturbation was such a private thing, a solo pleasure. For me, a necessity. Release. It kept me faithful, at least in body.

“Sadie? Will you?”

I nodded and stepped back. My hands went up to cup my breasts. Adam’s gaze went there, avid. Bright color had flushed his cheeks. I let my thumbs rub across my nipples, making them hard again.

“I love your breasts.”

This was how it had to be, with us. He would make love to me with his words while I acted out his commands, bringing myself the pleasure he couldn’t.

“Take them out of the nightgown.”

I did, easily enough, for it was made for easy access. I licked my fingertips and pinched my nipples, wetting them. Adam groaned. I did it again, until they glistened and darkened with arousal.

“Yeah, just like that. Stroke them. I love to lick your tits, just like that.”

My breath caught at his words. He used to whisper them to me before taking my nipple between his lips and suckling. The memory made my nipples throb, and I rolled them with my fingers until I had to moan, myself.

“I want to taste you, Sadie. Let me see your pussy.”

I sat in the chair, my legs spread so wide the panties could no longer cover me. I pushed the scrap of lace to the side, showing him my clit, my cunt, my thighs. His words became his hands and tongue, my hands his cock.

He told me how he wanted to lick me, to suck my clit between his lips and eat me until I screamed. I groaned, spreading myself open to his sight. I licked my fingers and circled my clit, rubbing fast until my hips jerked upward. I pushed a finger inside me, then another, feeling my wetness. The heat. I closed my eyes and lost myself in Adam’s voice, in the story he wove of our passion.

“You’re so tight and hot,” he told me, and he was right.

My cunt closed around my fingers. My hips lifted again. I withdrew and used my slickness on my clit, making the motions smooth. I found a pace I liked, mimicking the way he’d have used his tongue.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told me, over and over, until I wanted to scream at him to shut up. To stop talking and fuck me. To come with me so hard there would be no breath for speeches.

I came, but alone, and at the last minute it wasn’t Adam’s face I saw between my legs, but Joe’s. I cried out, the noise of passion not so different from despair, and was ashamed the pleasure ripping through me was made no less because of my guilt.

I kissed him when I could breathe again, and we smiled at one another. I nuzzled his neck, the way I used to, and peppered kisses all over his face. Our embrace was no less because only I could make it.

I love you.

Words that used to slip from my lips without thought now stuck in my throat. At times like this, when he was being soft and warm, I could almost believe this was all working the way it should. That tomorrow would be better than yesterday and we’d move past this pit stretching deeper and wider between us every day.

I’d always wondered why people who’d throw away an appliance that had ceased to function would hang on to a marriage that no longer worked. Next to my husband, the only man I’d ever loved, ever made love with, ever slept beside, I thought I knew.

Hope.

March

T
his month my name is Brandy, and I giggle a lot. This annoys Joe, but he pretends it doesn’t because he wants to get laid. I also snap my gum while we’re talking, unaware this makes him want to scream. You wouldn’t know it by the way he smiles. All teeth.

I met Joe a while ago in the coffee shop where I work. He comes in a few times a week for coffee and muffins for his office. The other girls and I giggle about him all the time, because he’s so cute. A businessman. I have a thing for businessmen, all buttoned up in their suits and ties. I like to think about what they look like under all those clothes.

He asks me out, not for coffee, thank god, though you’d be surprised how many assholes do. What, I work in a coffee shop, you think I don’t like to do anything else?

No, Joe asks me out someplace real nice, a real fancy place with tablecloths and flowers and, like, waiters who describe the specials with all these fancy words like they’re reading a play.

I borrowed a dress from Cyndi, the girl I work with. She’s way jealous Joe asked me out, but that’s cool because she’s got a boyfriend anyway so she can’t really go out with Joe even if he did ask, which he didn’t because he asked me, instead. Brandy.

“Like the song?” He asks when the waiter’s gone with our orders.

“Huh?” I never heard of a song called Brandy, though I do know it’s a kind of booze.

“Never mind.” Joe doesn’t seem to talk much, which is cool, because I talk enough for both of us.

I tell him all about the classes I’m taking, and he seems really interested that I’m studying communications. I want to be an anchorperson on the news someday, but, like, it’s totally cool if I have to be the weather girl first because everyone has to start somewhere. Joe nods at this, like he totally gets it, and I’m glad because my last date just tuned me out and tried to get into my pants right away, if you can believe it. Like I’d just put out, just like that. I work in a coffee shop. I’m not a prostitute.

Joe listens to me all through dinner, which is awesome, real linguine and clam sauce. I ask him if he wants some but he just shakes his head and says he doesn’t eat shell-fish. That’s fine, because he doesn’t mind if I nibble at his dinner. I mean, maybe I should have asked before sneaking a bite, but then he says don’t worry, go ahead and finish it if I want, he’s done.

Well, hey, I’m not about to pass that up. I don’t make much working in the coffee shop and college is a real bitch to pay for. Linguine beats the hell out of ramen noodles.

“It’s nice to see a girl who eats.” Joe settles back with his glass of wine, watching me, and I pause.

I figure he’s making fun of me, maybe, because I know I could lose a few pounds. I straighten my back to make sure there aren’t any rolls showing over my belt and I push my boobs forward. When the waiter asks if we want any dessert, I’m dying to dive into a piece of chocolate lava cake, but I say no, thanks.

“You’re sure?” Joe lifts one perfect, golden eyebrow, and my whole body feels gooey and warm. He’s so cute. “We could share a piece.”

Sharing’s okay, so I tell him that’s great. His grin is like looking at sunshine. I melt a little more. God, he’s hot. And sweet. And a really, really good listener. He’s the nicest guy I’ve been out with in, like, forever.

The waiter brings our chocolate cake and two forks, but Joe pushes the plate more toward me. I love that he’s a gentleman, letting me take the first bite. All of the bites, actually.

He watches me eat. His eyes follow the fork from the plate to my mouth and stay there. I lick my lips, afraid I’ve smeared them with chocolate. My heart’s beating a little faster with all the attention he’s paying me, and I’m not sure what to think of it. He’s looking at my lips as if he might want to eat them instead of the cake. My thighs quiver at the thought.

I wouldn’t mind if Joe wanted to lick away the chocolate from my lips. That’d be super hot. It’s been a long time since a guy kissed me, nearly a month. I made out with someone from my Comm Media class down at the Hardware Bar, but that’s all. He wanted more, and, like, I’m cool with the whole friend with benefits thing. It’s just that you’ve got to be friends first, and I barely knew him.

By now I’ve finished all the cake and Joe’s only licked up the whipped cream. He eats the strawberry, too. It’s my turn to watch his mouth work. I watch the way his tongue licks the cream off the berry’s pointed end and I imagine he’s licking me, instead. This time, my clit pulses and I shiver.

“Are you ready to go?”

I’m not. I’d really like to sit here with Joe for a few more hours. I don’t want our date to be over, not when I’m having such a good time.

It’s not like I can say that, right? I nod. “If you want.”

I still hope he’ll say, “let’s have another drink, Brandy, ’cuz I’m having so much fun I don’t want to leave.” But, of course, a smooth guy like Joe doesn’t say stuff like that. He might look as yummy as a movie star, but this isn’t the movies.

He helps me with my jacket and when his hands stroke my shoulders, I want to throw myself into his arms and attack his mouth, right there. I hold off, though, because this is a real classy place, and besides, I don’t want Joe to think I’m easy.

He listens to me talk some more on the drive back to my place. I’ve never been with a guy who listens like Joe does, and I know he’s really paying attention because every so often he makes a little noise and nods his head. I give him directions to my apartment building. When we pull up in front, I look up to see if the lights are on in the front room. It’s dark, which means my roommate isn’t home yet. I really, really, really don’t want this night to end. It’s been so perfect, from the way he held the door for me to the way he picked up the tab without a second thought.

So I invite Joe inside.

For a second I’m sure he’s going to say no. His face has that look guys get when they’re trying hard to think of an excuse to turn you down. But then he smiles at me again, until I’m like, a puddle of goo on the front seat of his car.

“Sure,” Joe says. “That sounds nice.”

Will he think it’s nice when I jump on top of him and shag him silly? That’s what I wonder when I lead him inside and show him where to hang up his coat. I hang mine, too, and I’m turning to ask him if he wants something to drink when the sight of him dries up every single word I meant to say.

He’s taken off his suit jacket. His shirt is pink. Damn, that is hott with two freaking t’s. Dark pink oxford shirt with a deep maroon tie. His pants and jacket are charcoal grey with the hottest pin stripes I hadn’t noticed in the restaurant’s dim lighting. He’s watching me gape like the biggest dork ever as he tugs his tie loose from his throat and unbuttons the top button of his shirt, and so I recover real fast and pretend I had something in my throat to clear it.

“Want something to drink?” I squeak and my cheeks like, catch totally on fire. Joe doesn’t seem to really notice, or maybe he’s such a gentleman he pretends he doesn’t. Either way, his smile fills me up like someone pumped me full of helium. I want to float up to the ceiling from that smile.

“Just water.”

I’ve seen him drink coffee, sometimes tea, a glass of wine with dinner. Now, water. I don’t have any bottled water and I’m a little ashamed, but he says tap water’s fine, and can he have some ice?

I have ice. I have some limes and lemons, too. They’ve been in the fridge for, like, ever, and they’re actually my roommate Susie’s but she won’t care if I use them. I slice them into quarters and Joe takes a slice of each for his glass. I do, too. It tastes good, but then I get a full-on taste of lemon and it makes my mouth twist.

Joe laughs. “Sour?”

I realize he’s moved pretty close to me. He smells as good as he looks, which I’ve already noticed is pretty damn delicious. In fact, he smells better. It’s not Drakkar or Polo but something else, I’m not really sure what. So I ask him.

Joe laughs again and puts his glass on the counter. He leans against it, one foot crossed over the other. Even his shoes are pretty and I realize I’ve never asked him what he does. I don’t really know anything about him, even though I’ve told him plenty about me.

“Soap and water.”

“You don’t wear cologne?”

Joe shakes his head and passes a hand over his face. “Irritates my skin.”

He’s got my hand in his before I can think about it, and he passes it down his cheek. His skin is warm and smooth, but I can feel a hint of bristle waiting to come out. His hair’s the color of the butterscotch cake we sell at the coffee shop. His eyebrows, too, which are bushy but perfectly shaped at the same time. The bristles on his chin faintly scratch my palm.

“That would be bad,” I say. “Irritated skin, I mean.”

I want him to kiss me. I want it so bad I’m already tipping my face up toward his. He’s not that tall, maybe not quite six feet, and I don’t have to get on tip-toe to reach his mouth.

He lets me kiss him. I say lets me because he doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t pull me closer, either. I’m used to guys diving down the back of my throat with their tongues right away, but this kiss is sweet. Our mouths don’t even open.

I pull away, giddy at the taste of his lips and fear I’ve just made an ass out of myself again. Joe’s smile gives me confidence. He doesn’t look mad or anything.

“Brandy,” Joe says. “You’re a very nice girl.”

I groan and roll my eyes. “But…?”

“But nothing.” He shrugs.

“But you don’t want to kiss me?” I have to ask, even though I’m sure the answer will disappoint me.

It doesn’t. “There are lots of places to kiss you.”

Whoa. Hot. Hot, hot, hot. I’m suddenly so hot I have to fan my face with my hand. A flurry of giggles burst out of me like bubbles. Joe smiles and puts his hands on my hips.

“Why don’t you take me into your bedroom?”

I’m more than willing to do that, all thoughts of him thinking I’m easy flying right out of my head. Joe doesn’t make me feel as if I’m being easy when he takes my hand and pushes open the door to my tiny bedroom. Joe makes me forget I’ve vowed to be more than a random drunken hookup or a friend with benefits.

I’m really glad I cleaned up in here before I brought Joe home. I got the small bedroom because Susie’s the one who signed the lease first. The bed takes up most of the space, with just a few inches to walk around it, but Joe’s there to do the horizontal boogaloo, not the cha-cha. We don’t need anything but the bed.

We stand at the foot of it. His hands go to my hips again. I put my hands on the front of his shirt, which feels smooth under my fingertips. I pull on his tie, undo the knot, slip it free. I undo the next few buttons of his shirt while he stands there. I don’t look up at his face. I concentrate on his body. I pull his shirt from his waistband, finish unbuttoning it, fold it open.

I run my hands over his chest. The hair there’s a little darker than butterscotch, more like…caramel. Suddenly, I’m shivering, and I lean forward to kiss his chest. The hairs tickle my cheeks and I close my eyes to breathe in his scent. Soap and water never smelled so good.

When I look up at him a second later, he’s smiling. I love that smile, how it spreads across his face and wrinkles the corners of his eyes. It makes his top lip disappear and when it gets bigger, I catch a glimpse of straight, white teeth.

I help him off with his shirt. He stands, wearing only his pants. I want to lick him all over, gobble him up as if he’s a cinnamon roll. That’s what he reminds me of. A piece of golden pastry. He looks delicious and I give in to the temptation. I lean forward and lick his chest. His heart beats under my tongue. I want to make it beat faster. I want to make him sweat and moan. I want to make him jerk and cry out. I want to make Joe come.

Joe pushes my shoulder gently until I stand up straight, and then we’re sinking slowly onto my bed. He’s kissing my throat while his hands slide up from my hips to my chest. My head hits the pile of stuffed animals and pillows and I reach up to toss them aside so we have more room.

I’m a bigger girl, but Joe made me feel like he’s all over me. In a good way. Like a guy should be all over a girl, be bigger than her. He covers me with his body as his hands and mouth roam.

I expect him to take my clothes off right away, to get right down to business, totally like guys my age. Joe doesn’t seem in a hurry. He kisses my throat and shoulder as he rubs my boobs through my shirt. He unbuttons my shirt slowly, one button at a time, moving his mouth lower and lower as he does.

He kisses the tops of my breasts, then hooks his finger into the catch at the back of my bra and tugs it. I hold my breath when it opens and he peels away the lace. I really want him to like my body.

When he sucks my nipple, I can’t stop the little moan. He’s so good. He knows how to flick his tongue over it, then suck so sweet and soft. Some guys latch on as though they’re trying to breastfeed, but not Joe. He mouths my nipples, one then the other, moving on and off until I can’t stay still beneath him and have to squirm.

He pauses long enough to help me out of my shirt and bra, then pushes me gently back against the pillows. He looks me over again the way he’d watched me eat the cake.

Everything inside me is hot and liquid from the way he’s been sucking on my nipples. I feel shivery all over, too, when he touches me. The feelings echo between my legs. I’m wet, my panties damp and rubbing my swollen clit.

Joe puts a hand to his belt. I get up on my elbows to watch him unbuckle it. When he opens the button of his pants, I catch myself licking my lips. I look up, and he’s watching me.

“You sure about this, Brandy?”

Whoa. He’s asking me? No guy bothers to ask, not once we’ve gotten this far.

“Yeah, Joe, I’m sure.”

I’m more than sure. I’m aching for it. Susie told me how she gets when her boyfriend goes away, how she gets so horny her pussy feels like it’s crying. I’ve never really understood what that means. I mean, I know what it’s like to be horny, but I’ve never really felt my body crave cock like it did when Joe pushed his pants down over his hips.

He gets naked real easy, too, and why not? He has nothing to be ashamed of. His body’s just as nice bare as it is dressed. He’s lean, but muscled. Thick hair covers his legs, makes a nest for his cock, spreads up his belly to surround his nipples. More hair covers his forearms. I’ve never liked hair on a man before, but then…well, I’d only ever really been with guys before. Joe’s a man. All man.